


ReITerations

by grayorca, SkyHighDisco



Category: IT (2017), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Cross-Posted on FanFiction.Net, Drama, Family, Fluff, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Non-Chronological, Supernatural - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-05
Updated: 2018-08-23
Packaged: 2019-04-18 14:09:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 37
Words: 72,512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14214852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grayorca/pseuds/grayorca, https://archiveofourown.org/users/SkyHighDisco/pseuds/SkyHighDisco
Summary: A spareITAU oneshots collection, for random ideas that don't fit the establishedITerationsframework.Excessive cuteness. Consume sparingly.Tentative hiatus until further notice.





	1. 1989 AU: Proxy

**Author's Note:**

> As suggested by justareader1014.
> 
> 1989 AU: It adopts a five-year-old Beverly Marsh.

Again.

Alvin Marsh had done it _again_.

The repugnant notion alone was enough to turn the creature's stomach. For better or worse, his hyperaware senses couldn't and didn't spare him any details as to what had gone on in the Marsh household the previous night.

And, as misguidedly as ever, It had just hoped he had heard wrong.

Hoping alone wasn't doing young Beverly Marsh any favors.

Time after time they met, and almost every time he found she had more cuts, more bruises, more hurts than the eye could see that were in need of mending.

Funny how, in the span of a few short weeks, she had come to latch onto him so desperately. Whatever compassionate side the creature had shown, she was so starved for care, it must have seemed like a prayer she hadn't thought to give had been answered.

No one else in Derry seemed to want to bat an eye, only he.

But this was going from batting an eye to lifting a finger about the problem, metaphorically speaking.

And once it was, one finger would mean reaching in with the whole hand.

Then there would be no going back.

If 'there' hadn't come and gone already.

"Can't I stay with _you_?"

Pennywise's blue eyes opened, pupils shrinking in abject alarm, and he almost jolted away.

Now there was a proposal he hadn't counted on hearing.

Not today, not _ever_.

He couldn't very well jolt away at the moment, though. The girl was clinging onto him with both arms, face pressed deep into his favorite form's suit. Muffled as her words were against his torso, he was as certain he had heard them correctly.

He was as sure as he was certain that bandage on Beverly's elbow hadn't been there yesterday.

Still, this was a bit sudden. A few playdates down by the canal, a Sunday rendezvous in the Barrens, and suddenly the girl thought It was the solution to all her Daddy troubles?

Unthinkingly, Pennywise shook his head, banishing that sardonic thought with a low growl.

Then the rational part of his brain caught up to his form's animalistic reaction.

A second later, he realized how, in doing so, he had sent Beverly the exact wrong message.

Sniffling, she reared back and peered desperately up at him. Those clear blue eyes were filled to the brim and threatening to spill over anew.

" _Please_?"

Sitting beside her on the secluded riverbank, Pennywise belatedly thought to get up, and to back away, just a short distance, crouching on his hands and booted feet.

"Bevs, you- you can't mEan that."

"I do, though," the girl whined, hands clasping before her. She sat on her hip, a stone's throw from being on her knees, the very definition of pleading. "Please?"

Pennywise glanced away, trying not to listen as she gave another dismayed whimper at the sight. He was mindful not to sigh, to fret visibly, to let his expression change otherwise.

And while his mind raced with hundreds of tangling strands of thought, they all seemed to gyrate around the following thread:

_You can't._

_You're not human._

_You can't give her the attention she needs._

_Well, maybe._

_No._

_She has needs._

_Human. Needs._

_Human needs._

_Needs that won't be taken care of if you send her back._

_Natural selection, dolt._

_Some sprouts grow up, some don't._

_Sure, the neglected ones least of all._

_She doesn't deserve that._

_It's not about 'deserving' anything._

_That's just life._

_Life, which is a lot easier to get through when you have someone on your side._

_Oh?_

_You know you can do better? Better than anyone of her own kind could?_

_No, but..._

_I can't... just let her go, either._

The soft _ting_ of a bell interrupted his inner voices there.

At that, Pennywise did sigh, quietly and slowly, through his nose.

He hadn't moved, hadn't turned one way or another.

Something had run into him, a soft, inconsequential weight that rocked him back for just a moment.

He let his eyes drop halfway shut, then looked down.

"Bevs..."

She said nothing. Or might have, and it couldn't be as clearly discerned as before. Too busy latching on again, the girl's tear-streaked face was hidden. Nuzzling close, she sought refuge in the warm space between his form's collar and chest.

Safely out of her view, Pennywise allowed himself a tortured-looking scowl.

Beverly hadn't seemed at all the clingy type when they had met a few short weeks ago.

But now, with today's dilemmas rearing their ugly heads, she had caved to her own inner desires.

It wasn't just food she was being deprived of at home.

For a fleeting second, the creature lamented his own foolishness. There was a reason he maintained his distance from humanity for all this time. First and foremost being, that forming bonds of any kind would mean _keeping_ them.

They were a curious species, humans. Occasionally, he walked among them, wearing a face that called itself Robert Gray. It was a generic enough name, and he played the part accordingly.

That was what kept humans on top, compared to this planet's other species. Sociability was at once their advantage and their weakness. It didn't seem to take long for them to establish social ties, but under the right conditions, said ties tended to last the entirety of their lives.

Lives, for they were mortal.

And It was not.

Then came Beverly Marsh.

Even now, he couldn't put a finger on what exactly it _was_ about her. What had first drawn them to each other. For as long as he could remember, It awoke every twenty-seven years to simply toil and feed and store up energy for his next hibernation.

Until now, sating a need he didn't even know he was in possession of - interaction - it hadn't been factor before.

And therein lay the rub. While he could take any shape, that didn't mean he was the best choice to bring up a wayward tyke such as she.

Like this form, now. There wasn't exactly a hidden circus below Derry, Maine he could whisk her away to, no happy ending like in a fairy tale. And even if there was, who knew if it was in Beverly's best interests, anyway?

In some ways, he was as clueless as Alvin Marsh.

Primary difference being, where Alvin didn't care to do anything about this, It _did_.

Whatever internal-debate-born counterlogic he threw at the problem wouldn't just make it go away.

He had to ask.

"BeverLy."

At some gentle prodding, she eased back into view, twisted around to look at him.

Her arms never lost their grip.

Her eyes were just as beseeching as before.

That time, It didn't sigh. Or growl. Or look away.

He couldn't.

Instead, haltingly, he raised one long arm and gently wrapped it around her thin back, thumb stroking her shoulder as they gazed at one another.

Her left eye to his right.

Staring at her, siphoning more than just her distress and despondent emotions away, it gave him time to adjust.

He blinked, revealing irises that had lightened up to that same clear, cerulean shade.

"Are you... suRe?"

Beverly stared at him. Her silence was almost hypnotic in its own right.

Talking hadn't gotten her what she wanted.

So she just nodded.

* * *

Making her his own didn't take much.

A few tweaked papers here and there.

Her birth certificate went missing as the records room of Derry's hospital changed floors.

Her short-lived school records went up in flames, as the box they sat in was mistakenly selected for disposal.

Some casual memories she had left in the minds of passersby, those erased by time's passing alone.

Rounding these alternation out were the little adjusted proof percentage levels on an otherwise-benign case of beer, purchased by one Alvin Marsh.

That turned out to be far stronger than he anticipated.

Pining after the 'loss' of his daughter, he would unknowingly drink himself into oblivion.

The certificate of death would simply be filled in as "acute alcohol poisoning".

With these things out of the way, it was like Beverly Marsh had never existed.

She did.

To It.

And - for both of them - that was all that mattered.


	2. 1989 AU: Trial And Error

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sequel to "Proxy". My Parentwise isn't that hot a father figure. Not at first.
> 
> Recommended OST: "With Or Without You" by U2

It halted just before the tunnel exit, frowned, and fitfully finger-combed his form's hair back into its usual, upswept shape. Goodness knew he only did so out of a need to distract himself from the inevitable. And it wasn't the first time in the past month he had found a need to procrastinate upon returning home.

  
Existence.

  
That was a far easier goal to keep hold of when it was just him he had to worry about.

  
The readied apology died on his lips the moment Bevs scampered across the cistern.

  
Bevs, not to be confused with Beverly Marsh.

  
She left that identity on the surface, along with the rest of her unwanted, miserable life, the day she threw herself at this creature's mercy.

  
She embraced one of his legs in a hug, heedless of her caretaker's suspiciously-empty hands, and how one of them reluctantly lifted to pat the crown of her head in silent reply.

  
As she wasn't looking, he indulged in a pained grimace. There was nothing else to do. All he could do was stand in dreadful, useless muteness before she stopped fussing and started begging.

  
He beat her to it, eyes closing so as to not see the look of disappointment dawn on her face.

  
_Again._

  
"Not... not todaY."

  
"No?"

  
"No..."

  
Slowly, her fingers unhooked from the material of his suit. Intact, unlike the tattering remains of her former knee-length dress. He kept his eyes closed and strode on, toward the base of the tower.

  
For he knew that path without eyes to even appreciate it.

  
Beverly Marsh wasn't a child of many words to begin with. If anything, in the time spent with It, her grasp of speech had regressed. Rapidly.

  
Hence, Bevs.

  
Simple words and phrases seemed the best method they could communicate with now.

  
Besides the sheer sensing of emotions.

  
But that was something only It could appreciate.

  
The resulting conversations were hopelessly one-sided.

  
Undaunted, he heard the scuffling of hands and bare feet as he ascended the ramp, back into the confines of the wagon. Their den wasn't exactly a necessary space for him, but at the moment, he could think of no better place to be to muse on the consequences of his shortcomings.

  
The interior had already been fashioned into a makeshift nest of old blankets, moth-eaten clothes, and random playthings. Unceremoniously, the would-be hunter batted a broken-down music box out of his way, flopping down to stretch out in the space it left behind. The platform gave a little lurch under the impact of his weight, but Pennywise paid it no mind.

  
Heaving a dejected breath, he folded his arms below his jaw and shut his eyes.

  
Sulking was in session.

  
Or... it _would_ have been.

  
Had Bevs not seen fit to interrupt.

  
Crawling up beside him, she hesitated for only a heartbeat before pouncing on his back, hands searching. As if he were hiding some forgotten scrap of food on his very person.

  
Lying still, Pennywise's eyes reopened to slits, irises brightening to an almost-yellow shade-of-clear-blue as he felt his hair being mussed, pawed out of arrangement. He thought twice of growling in discontent, considering his failure and that it had brought this situation about.

  
_Again._

  
_How many times is that, now?_

  
_Four?_

  
_And you still haven't gotten it?_

  
_You're billions of years old. Humans haven't even made a period's-worth of historic impact on this planet yet._

  
_And **you** can't figure out what she needs to survive?_

  
If only love alone were enough to sate one's corporeal hunger.

  
To her credit, his Bevs didn't whine. She only made her displeasure known in her longfaced expressions, or restless motions, as she was doing now. A remnant of her past life. Whining had once meant getting a rough cuff upside the head for daring to mouth off.

  
On that front, the clown could learn and even appreciate a thing or two. His own penchant for whining only stemmed from this form's flair for exaggeration, after all. You had to be as extravagant in how you conveyed approval as disapproval.

  
And, more and more, this form was feeling less practical. Bevs enjoyed the look, associated it with affection and protection, but that was about it.

  
He had been reluctant to assume the shape of Bob Gray. Not only because he anticipated the worst reaction on Bevs' part, but because of the temptation thereof.

  
To linger in one form too long was to potentially-condemn yourself to its limits. Risking a split with his base energies, however temporary or long-lasting it may have been, he couldn't take that chance. He wouldn't, not with her well-being at stake.

  
It had no more interest in staying permanently human than he had in becoming a herbivore.

  
Even if his charge could survive on that, on what meager selections of lichens and fungi there were to be found in the surrounding forests.

It wouldn’t work forever.

She would need real protein at some point.

  
Raw animals.

  
She couldn't handle that.

  
Well, she could.

  
But if it meant her vomiting up half of every meal, growing sicker and sicker, no matter how many healing balms he applied-

  
No.

  
There had to be a better way.

  
_What to do, what to do..._

  
Bevs was still pawing at his hair.

  
And after a time, it _did_ start to grate his nerves the wrong way.

  
With a sigh that was half a growl, he wrenched his head around.

  
" _WhaT_ are you- "

  
He cut himself off, sucking in a tight breath.

  
Her expression stopped him cold.

  
For she wasn't frowning.

  
She was... smiling?

  
Really?

  
He leaned closer, peering nearsightedly at her in the weak light.

  
Inadvertently, his curiosity was rewarded.

  
Still leaning on his billowy shoulder, Bevs giggled and threw her arms around the back of his neck. Her face lay sideways atop the curve of his skull.

  
"Next time, you'll get it."

  
And with bizarrely funny-unfunny timing, her stomach gave a very audible growl.

  
Caught between the conflicting clash of warm affection and horrid realization, the creature propped himself up on one hand. Bevs gave a little cry of discontent at being jostled. Said cry soon became another contented giggle as he used his free arm to embrace her across the back.

  
_Next time._

  
_Please, please let next time be_ the _time I make good on my promise._


	3. Epilogue AU: Burrow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As pioneered by FF.Net’s SkyHighDisco-new.
> 
> Epilogue AU: Stan and Patty have a daughter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Recommended OST: “Isn’t She Lovely” by Stevie Wonder

"Now, wheRe, oh, _where_ did that liTtle rascal go?"

  
The toddler in question snickered, before belatedly remembering to hold her hands to her face, palms cupping her mouth.

  
She was supposed to be in hiding.

  
Even if, at that moment, her hiding place could be outed in less than a second, Pennywise seemed willing to entertain her idea of fun to the fullest extent. He, undoubtedly, knew just where Abby Uris was. He never seemed _not_ to, no matter where she went in the house. And upstairs, in her bedroom, there were even fewer places to hide away in. The baby gate at the top of the stairs prevented her from exploring further.

  
What did it matter? Upstairs was just as good as down, if not better.

  
At that moment, her caretaker's antics were more than making up for whatever difference there may have been.

  
Then, unexpectedly - as the creature always seemed wont to do - he decided the game was up.

  
The edge of the bedcover lifted, daylight spilling in like a rush of water.

  
And in the the space that appeared, a familiar red-and-white face leaned down to grin obscenely.

  
"Oh, _that_ 'S where!"

  
Abby half-squealed in mock indignation, attempting to shuffle backwards on her stomach, further back into the crawlspace beneath her bed.

  
She wasn't going to give up her newfound refuge just yet.

  
"Penny, no! I don't- "

  
That is, she thought she had a sound strategy, wiggling back into the furthest corner beneath the bed.

  
Where she thought he couldn't get her.

  
She soon learned otherwise.

  
That there was no where she could go that he wouldn't.

  
Somehow, despite looking so human, the silver-suited being managed to _slither_ into the narrow space, looping around and intercepting her before she managed another scoot. All long limbs and wide angles, and yet he could somehow contort and completely thwart her plans to hide and wait out an unwanted naptime session.

  
Finding nothing but a wall of satin, bunched up behind her, Abby pouted.

  
"Penny, _no_."

  
The entity, curled around not unlike a snake, only smirked at her and tilted his head, temple braced against the carpeted floor, eyes glowing bright blue in the dark. He was completely undissuaded by the girl's simplistic command. With his nearest hand he fluttered gloved fingertips under her chin - the latest of many ticklish spots he had discovered.

  
To her pleasant dismay.

  
Abby caved instantly, eyes smiling themselves shut, devolving into another round of shoulder-quivering giggles.

  
"Down heRe with these darn, dirty dust bunNies. All becauSe we don't want a nap. Tut, tut. What _wouLd_ your father say?"

  
Abby couldn't fathom an immediate answer.  
She kept giggling, twisting and writhing ineffectively, before thinking to try rolling away, to keep the fingertips from her face.

  
Alas, there was nowhere to go. Curled around her as he was, the clown's legs kept his prey from escaping.

  
The light from outside was blocked out. But in these circumstances, the entity's very eyes were better than any flashlight.

  
"There aren't any bunnies down here, you fibber."

  
"Nooo," Pennywise frowned at her in consideration. The downward tip of his expression made those red lines seem longer than they should ever rightfully be. His head tilted the other way. "Not obviOus ones, no. Did Mommy or Daddy explain what that is yeT?"

  
Abby folded her arms against the floor, face half-hiding behind her wrists as she shook her head, looking up through the tops of her eyes. "Mm-mm!"

  
Lord knew Stanley Uris abhorred dirty surroundings. His household was probably the cleanest in all of Atlanta.

  
So it wasn't any wonder that his four-year-old wasn't familiar with the notion of dust in general, let alone what things could form from it.

  
And that was on the small scale. Anyone with a penchant for astrophysics could see the parallels between the formation of dust bunnies being on par with the formation of cosmic bodies like planets, stars, and the galaxies made thereof.

  
So, in a way, how fatefully-fitting was it for It to deliver this lesson?

  
"BunNies is just one name for them. They'Re made from stuff like liNt, hair, spider webs- "

  
"And dust," Abby nodded.

  
Clever thing. Always putting the pieces together ahead of schedule.

  
Just like her papa.

  
Pennywise smirked again.

  
"LiKe the dust your bed is collecting as we speaK. NaptiMe!"

  
The whining resumed as Abby found herself unceremoniously driven out of hiding by prodding hands.

  
An ironic sight, to say the least. It wasn't often the monster went under the bed to flush a child out.

  
She wasn't as prone to dramatics as Georgie had been, but the disspirited flopping-back-against-the-floor move seemed very familiar.

  
As did the ensuing whine.

  
"But, Penny, I don't _want_ to."

  
Balanced over her on said hands, her caretaker snorted in repressed amusement. If he had done this girl any wrong, maybe it was in demonstrating the effectiveness of whining to get what you wanted.

  
Neither Stan or Patty could be convicted of teaching their daughter as much. There was no evidence for it.

  
Not like Pennywise. Evidence tended to pour out every time he opened his mouth.

  
And where was Richie to be found when you needed to shovel some incriminating dirt his way?

  
"It's not abouT wanting, Abby girl. It's about neEding."

  
"Oh? What if I don't want to need it?"

  
"Want to nee- " Pennywise cut himself off, snickering at the unfitting absurdity of that sentence. His eyes wandered in opposite directions before resetting. "SilLy thing. Your argumenT is invalId."

  
"In-vaaa-lid," Abby sounded the word out, to her own amusement. She giggled again at the perfunctory nuzzle she got in reward, eyes falling shut as their brows brushed together. "E-heh-hee, you use funny words, Penny."

  
_Blame it on your old man. Hanging around him will turn anyone into a mini-thesaurus, let alone me._

  
Pennywise snuffled at the touch of those little fingers entangling themselves in his mussed hair, keeping their faces obnoxiously close. A facehug was as good as any others, he supposed, but that didn't absolve him of his task.

  
Their eyes reopened at the same time, centimeters apart.

  
Blue versus brown.

  
"You need to sleEp, Abs."

  
The toddler frowned at him, but her hands didn't budge.

  
They were as deeply dug in as she could be stubborn.

  
Pennywise held off for all of ten seconds before indulging in a Uris-eyeroll, sensing the inevitable was upon them.

  
"Ohh-kay. What if I _sTayed_?"

  
His answer took the form of a kiss between the eyes.


	4. Epilogue AU: Sharing Is Caring

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Abby learns to share.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leave your disbelief in the marked box by the door, please.

Abigail Uris didn't need to bring any toys to the daycare.

Or so she had thought.

And now that she found herself 'deprived' of her chief source of amusement, she did the first thing that came to mind.

Sulk.

All too abruptly, the dollhouse before her was of no interest. Barbie and Ken lay neglected and facedown in the front 'yard', appliance-shaped pieces of plastic haphazardly strewn around them on the floor.

Abby sat on her hip and surveyed the crime scene with a scowl, the ruffles of her bright blue dress bunched up around her legs in a most-unladylike fashion. Her black, buckled-down shoes just peeked out from under the hem.

No, those weren't the burning beginnings of tears in the inner corners of her brown eyes.

She didn't dare look back across the room, where the sounds of bells, gentle scuffling, and the laughter of her now-unwanted-daycare mates - the names of whom she had just told herself to _forget_ \- were aplenty.

It would hurt more to look that way.

She sniffed sharply, closed her eyes.

Almost as instantaneously, the bells stopped chiming.

Then there was a collective groan as the group of three boys and two girls abruptly found themselves abandoned.

A shadow fell over the dollhouse.

"AbS...?"

Her delay gave one of the other kids time to call out.

"Mr. Penny, come back."

To which the other, slightly-older girl whispered harshly, pacifyingly, "Casey, no. Give them a second."

"Go _on_ , then," Abby snapped, going off like a short-fused firecracker. Her head whipped around to glare at the hunched-over silver figure holding itself poised above her. "You'd rather play with them than me, anyway."

Where once he appeared innocently-bewildered, Pennywise winced, black-rimmed eyes narrowing just a smidge.

He held her accusatory stare nevertheless. He kept his hands clasped before him - not kneading nervously, but not at ease, either.

"AbS."

But his voice, so lightly-lilted and usually-carefree, went a bit stern.

Uncaring of the change in tone, Abby huffed and crossed her arms. She had a right to be upset. "When I said you could come, I didn't mean so _they_ could have you all to themselves."

The clown took an exaggerated glance around the closed playroom. There was little chance of interruption from outside, as the daycare operators were preoccupied with serving lunch to the younger-aged group, downstairs, while the toddlers played.

It had seemed like an opportune moment for the entity to check in.

When he finally looked back, though, he was frowning. Without breaking said eye contact, he gestured back toward the group with a sweeping motion of the arm, palm open. "WeLl! Nothing'S stopping you from joining in."

"I didn't want to join in. I wanted _us_ to play House."

"Abi _gail_."

He didn't lean in.

Abby gasped more out of startlement than fear. She almost leaned over on her hands, scooting back on reflex.

Once held at a safe distance, some two feet away, suddenly his painted face was right up before her own.

It was still frowning, very profoundly, with its navy blue eyes full of silent scorn.

All at once, she felt very foolishly meek and small compared to him.

And Pennywise felt less like a nanny and looked more like a disapproving older brother for it.

As a firstborn like Abby was, that was a very weird thing to suddenly behold.

Just as quickly one of his gloves lashed out.

"You know beTter."

Abby blinked, flinched, and scrunched up her face. The nose-flick he had given with those three words seemed a lot less playful than those he had dealt her in the past. "Penny, I- "

A fingertip resting on her lips silenced her.

"You're no fusSy baby. You can shaRe."

And from that, she knew there would be no further arguing the subject. Shoulders sagging, the girl let her eyes drift sideways to regard the five faces across the room, staring at them with mixed expressions of wonder and uncertainty.

She was... beginning to feel the same.

_Daddy told him to say that, didn't he?_

Pennywise's shadowed expression gave up its frown in favor of a half-smirk, face dipping lower to press their foreheads together. The fingertip pulled away and he patted her cheek, thumb stroking her cheekbone.

In the process, it caught and soaked up a tear before it could fall.

His steadied voice rumbled with the lowest of compromised whispers.

"You're still my favorite. Just remember that."

Abby scoffed softly, smiling up at him despite her best efforts not to.

Playing favorites.

Huh.

She could live with that.


	5. 1989 AU: Renege

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part 3 of our 1989 AU.
> 
> It takes a chance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Recommended OST: "One Of A Kind" by Stevie Wonder

It didn't mind admitting when he was wrong.

To himself, that is.

Especially when being wrong meant having it easier than if he were right.

To everyone else, the wrongness or rightness was largely irrelevant. So he didn't. Mostly because 'everyone else' was unaware of his existence, exactly as they were meant to be. He had no one to admit to there.

Bevs wasn't everyone else, though.

Just as he had underestimated her own ability to gauge feelings in others, he misjudged the reactions she would be prone thereto.

The instance with her messing up his form's hair, for example - she hadn't been doing so out of a selfish need to seek reassurance, to pine for attention.

If anything, it had been the reverse. Those persistent strokes. That had been _her_ trying to console _him_.

And he adored her all the more for it.

So, with doubts put on the backburner, they went topside.

* * *

"It's- it's a lot colder than I remember."

_What, the weather, or the sight before us?_

It suspected it was both. He couldn't do anything about the latter (not yet), but for the former, there were the garments procured from a clothesline (foolishly left out to somehow-dry in the chilly autumn air, they had been).

The sweater's sleeves were a touch too long for Bevs, though. The cuffs reached well past her knuckles, almost to her fingertips.

And with fumbling fingers, she was trying to roll them back.

He didn't watch her struggle, as he once had, before she found the courage to ask him to take her in.

Scoffing quietly, mildly amused, he stepped over to her and knelt down.

The edge of Derry sat at the bottom of the forested hill. It looked as cold and uninviting as ever. On the surface, besides what lay underneath.

Bevs may as well be bundled up right.

"Here."

Her face lit up with a smile, watching his bare hands fold the cuffs back, tucking them with precision around her wrists.

"You knew how to do that?"

Robert Gray smirked up at her, blue-green eyes peering from under dark brows. "What kinda human could I pass for if I couldn't figure that much out?"

* * *

Derry wasn't much to see in the fall.

As the days grew shorter, the very color seemed to fade from the town. The once-vibrant autumn tones that lured tourists in promises of rural photo opportunities, they faded as the wind sucked them away from the branches that bore them through the summer.

Bevs scampered about the clearing in her borrowed garments, giggling, trying to catch the oak leaves as they fell. The more they danced on the breeze, weaving in and out of her reach before lighting upon the ground, the more she laughed.

Denim-clad legs crossed, one leather-jacketed arm draped on the backrest, the entity-in-disguise watched her frolic. He couldn't quite relax, but it was nice to recline on the nearest park bench, to be free of worry for just a minute or so.

He had spent enough of those the last few weeks fretting over how to best take care of her.

Part of that learning process was the rediscovery that, unsurprisingly, she clearly preferred being above ground to down in the cistern. He could shower her with as many knickkancks and toys as her heart desired. More than once, he had returned to see her gazing wistfully up at the skylight.

Humans just weren't made to be underground.

She would need exposure to the sun as much as she needed food more on par with what she was used to.

It felt a rush of frustration at the new realization, turning the resulting glower skyward.

Somewhere on his peripheral, Bevs gave a little startled cry, stumbling over a fallen branch.

He watched as she regained her footing, laughed, kept on running.

The endearing sight served to bring out a chuckle in him.

What a time he had picked to wake up.

* * *

She listened to his plan.

And didn't protest until they had stopped on the sidewalk outside.

"They'll see me."

Rob Gray smirked and glanced sidelong at her.

His charge-turned-understudy's misgivings were once valid. His own doubts were once hers, for he was as initially unsure of the concept of blanketing another with a veil of nonexistence was even feasible.

But not anymore.

He pushed the convenience store's front door open, ignoring the tinkle made by the over-the-frame bell.

"No, they won't, Bevs."

Frowning, she peered up at him, eyebrow raised.

"Why not?"

"Because they won't."

With his other hand, he ushered her inside.

* * *

The five-year-old jumped up and down, waving her hands before the store clerk.

He continued to stock the shelf with cans, utterly undisturbed.

After a time, she gave up trying upset the experiment.

Across the aisle, watching this ensue, It laughed softly. He stood, hip leaning on the waist-high bunker of frozen food. As Bevs trotted back to his side, he tossed her an apple - knicked fresh from the nearby produce section.

She belatedly thought to start gnawing away at it.

Eventually, as her stomach quieted and she thought beyond sheer shock, she stopped chewing, swallowed hard.

Then she coughed.

"They- they don't see us."

It lounged against the bunker as customers passed them by, headed one way, then the other, without as little as a second glance.

"I told you."

Job done, the clerk gathered his empty cardboard and walked away.

"How?" Bevs continued to gape, apple core held tight in her hands. "How come they can't?"

"Because they can't." He reached for the handkerchief stashed inside the flap of his pleated jacket.

Her blue eyes (somehow) went even wider and rounder. "Are we ghosts, Penny?"

It kept smirking as he cleaned the apple juice from her face.

_There is no better comparison humanity has._

_Even if she doesn't yet grasp the notion you have to be dead to become a ghost..._

"Call it that if you want."

The specter of a child would have been easier to care for, in comparison.

But at that moment, It was certain he wouldn't have this arrangement any other way.


	6. 1989 AU: No Love Lost

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 1989 AU: Parentwise and Bevs weather their first disagreement.
> 
> Typical father-daughter stuff, right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another step toward a possible multi-chapter story, this.

If the outcome of this could only be determined by the simple factor of who had blinked first, It would have already won.

In fact, he would have won several times over.

Besides blinking, Bevs was fussing and fretting, more than she ever had in their recent past.

Heels digging deep, leaning this way and that, she struggled. She fought very determinedly, trying to break out of the hands that ensnared her (using not even a tenth of their wielder's strength to do so).

In truth, the girl had no snowball's chance of getting free. Not without breaking or dislocating something. And even if she did, it was simple logic that the cosmic entity could just wink out and rematerialize around her again.

He had cause.

The weather beyond the tunnel's exit was less than ideal. Outside, one of Maine's frigid October storms was making herself known to the Barrens, in the form of flash-flood-inducing rainfall and trunk-snapping winds.

While he had sensed the system, brewing in the skies above, It had frowned upon seeing the conditions with his own two eyes.

They were not at all child-friendly.

At the same time, Bevs had a sudden itch to play outside. She had grown bored of the amusements of the cistern. No doubt she wanted to go play scavenger, to bring back more trinkets for her small, toy-chest-sized collection.

It had never refused her anything.

Not intentionally.

So this was a first.

Step one - make a barricade of yourself.

Step two - explain the facts of life.

Step three - continue to elaborate on said facts until your charge came to their senses.

And, when necessary, repeat step one as needed.

"Bevs."

Eventually, he forwent physical restraint, and let go.

The tunnel wasn't that far across in diameter. He simply whisked away, then took another stance, directly between her and the exit. Stooped over with arms outstretched to either side, the message in his body language couldn't have been made more clear.

_You're grounded, young lady._

Despite these odds, he knew Bevs was undaunted by the sight. The kid could be as fearless as she needed to be. The only person she had ever feared in life was out of the picture.

It wasn't said person.

A net of limbs through which there was no hope of slipping through? His charge couldn't exactly climb along the walls or the tunnel's ceiling.

But she charged, anyway.

"I said, _no_."

There was an echoey splash as she stepped back. Hands fisting at her sides, Bevs gave another dismayed groan and attempted to sidestep him.

Again.

"Just for a minute?"

Its frown veered into a scowl. One of his arms angled down, sharply, bracing itself diagonally across her body, from shoulder to hip. Long fingers wrapped around her side.

"No."

Bevs slipped out of his grip, and stepped the other way.

"Half a minute?"

Her feet slipped just a little as she was gently pushed back in retaliation.

"No."

Heaving an irritated sigh, she made another run at his legs.

Mirroring said sigh, It let the net fall.

Gently, he grabbed her by the upper arms, crouching down to block her path.

"Ehn-oh. That spells- _no_."

"I don't need another phonics lesson," she huffed, arms scissoring across her narrow chest.

It set his hands on her shoulders, brought their faces close together.

Her eyes practically crackled an icy blue in the near-dark.

Sternly, he glared back just as fiercely.

With irises the exact-same perfectly-crystaline blue.

"This, your behavior right now? ThiS makes me thinK you do."

Then he grinned impishly, thoughts ever random.

"And that wasn'T phonics."

"Spelling, then!" Her voice went a tad shrill, as his sometimes did when the agitation was running high. It complimented the dramatic throw-hands-up gesture perfectly.

"Bevs, you can play tomorRow."

"But- "

"But, _nothing_. Did you even _look_ out theRe?"

She glanced longingly past his shoulder. "But- but inside is so- _boring_."

_And you'd rather abandon all semblence of sense for a little life-threatening dip in the Kenduskaeg?_

The entity snorted, let his eyes fall halfway shut.

In a way, she wasn't being unreasonable.

Alvin, may his negligent soul _not_ rest at ease, had known plenty of disregard for his daughter's safety.

He never had cause to deny her - for her own good.

So, of course, the introduction of the concept meant she would fight It on the subject.

Every step of the way.

"Yes, boring. BoriNg and _safe_."

The girl went still, new realization dawning on her dirt-smudged face.

Behind them, Mother Nature continued to wail and shriek. Misty gouts of rain continued to buffett their way into the tunnel, just far enough to reach them, casting a damp touch over everything.

The clown glanced at one of his saturated gloves, folded the fingers over. With the back of his hand, he used it to wipe the filth from her cheek.

It wasn't a pristine white anymore. More of a light ash.

As such, he had no compunctions about dirtying it.

"Didn't you want me to keEp you safe?"

Bevs thought about that for a good two minutes, eyes sliding back and forth, before stammering, faintly:

"Y... yes, but- "

With her face half clean, he put a fingertip to her mouth.

"Sometimes being safe means doing what you don't want, Bevs."

She blinked, features gentling as she pondered further.

He tilted his head, moved to clean the other side of her face.

"Does that make senSe?"

It wasn't insulting her to ask.

It was making sure she appreciated the lesson, that he was being considerate.

He was no Alvin Marsh.

And so long as he could help that, he would keep things that way.

"It- it does, Penny. I only..."

"Only what?" he asked, head canting down to better meet her suddenly-averted eyes.

For she had no cause to be sheepish around him.

"Momma liked storms."

At that, It did blink.

There it was.

Another first for the eternity-long scrapbook.

Slowly, he frowned. How long had he overlooked that? He was as stunned with himself for not realizing it sooner.

Beverly had never mentioned her mother.

"She- she diD?"

Bevs nodded, tears already brimming along her eyelashes.

Against the howl of the wind, echoing through the tunnel, her shaky breaths were nigh indiscernable.

The entity was tempted to ask more, as he always was, but nothing his charge would have said, he couldn't already see with a gentle brush through her mindscape.

 _Elfrida._  

_Before the cancer took her._

_She liked to sit by the window, watch the rain fall._

_Look at the patterns the drops left behind on the glass._

_Imagine what they most-closely resembled, like clouds._

_Chores done, Beverly used to join her._

_The only time Alvin ever left them alone._

Surfacing from those series of images, the entity saw just what he expected to.

Bevs was crying.

Watching her succumb to the painful memories, It felt the sympathetic burn in his own self-made eyes.

His own mood, ever reflective, dipped to match hers.

"She did," he repeated, softly, certainly.

Bevs could only give another sob, lunging forward to cling to the silver ruffles. Carefully, as if she were a pile of feathers, he threaded his arm over her quivering back, and went still, eyes shuttering.

A living statue.

He would keep frozen for as long as she needed him to.

He had erased a lot to make this child his own.

But that...

That he would leave alone.

Moments later, they were holding each other as close as could be, chins hooked over one another's shoulders. Bevs' soft weeping eventually blended with the sounds of the storm, until it was no more.

The entity was suddenly feeling both a mite more possessive, and all the more committed to his newfound role. Day by day, the doubts he had in taking it on were fewer and fewer.

Someone had done what they could for Beverly, in the time they had.

Had they not, It and Bevs would never have had a chance to meet.

What was wrong with doing right in someone's memory?

...No.

Not just someone.

 _She'll be safe, Elfrida._  

_I can only hope my best is worthy of her._


	7. BTS: Scout

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A would-be behind-the-scenes moment from “New Heights”, were “ITerations” filmed for real.
> 
> ...I can dream, can’t I?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for a friend. Don’t know if this is a one-off idea, but I figured it was harmless enough to try.

This was why, in the movie business, competent location scouting was always so crucial in pre-production.

Not only to make sure the needs of the scene were adequately satisfied, according to the script.

But to make sure the set was _safe_.

Particularly for the younger, rowdier members of the cast, for whom troublemaking just had to dovetail with the demands of the craft. Especially when someone thought it was a good idea to invite said cast along to get an appreciative view of their surroundings.

It didn't matter if the scripted scene in question would be shot later, on a stage against bluescreen.

Apparently, they needed to see the trees for themselves.

"You talked him into that, didn't you?"

Bill scowled, glancing slowly between the three boys presently caught in his crosshairs. At that moment, none of the other actors - kids, _kids_ who happened to be actors - were fessing up. Collectively, the trio of Finn, Jack, and Wyatt seemed to step back at the tone of his words, not the volume at which they were said.

And while he didn't snap at them out of sheer, outright anger, it was with no small measure of concern he stepped up to the oak tree in question.

"Jackson."

Two bright brown eyes stared down at him from between the branches.

Wasn't it just like this one to slip away when no one was watching him?

"What're you doing?"

The leaves shook as the mostly-unseen boy shifted back and forth, working his way up, further and further away.

"Climbing!"

"I... can see that." Bill swallowed carefully, trying to stay calm. When, in reality, were the boy's parents anywhere nearby, this would be cause for an uproar. "Were you planning on coming back down?"

"Yeah!"

It took a little more prodding to stall his progress up the tree.

Before he reached the point of no return.

"Care to tell me _when_?"

"When I'm ready. I wanna see how high- "

" _Jackson_."

Now the older actor thought it appropriate to raise his voice.

Just a decibel.

The trembling leaves stilled.

Framed by green points, Jackson's face peeked out to look down at him, frowning.

Bill stared back, scarcely daring to breathe.

It was one thing to be tied off by cables to a safety harness.

With nets strung underneath you.

Real life was not as forgiving as the movies made it seem.

"It's not safe."

Those three words seemed to do the trick.

Slowly, almost timidly, the boy thought to backtrack. Descending as carefully as possible, he no doubt felt the Swede's watchful eyes boring into the back of his skull.

Dropping back to the ground with a soft bounce, he inched closer, sheepish eyes peeping up from under contrite eyebrows. He all but scuffed a toe in the dirt out of embarrassment.

"Sorry, Bill."

He sighed through his nose, sounding critical. But the pat on the back and the smile he offered said otherwise. "Just ask someone next time, okay? What if you fell and broke something? Or you got stuck and no one knew?"

"That wouldn't have happened."

Bill raised an eyebrow. "It wouldn't?"

Ah, yes. The simple-but-always-effective rebuttal. He remembered being that age, being challenged by his older brothers (who seemingly never missed a chance to rib him), to back up his one-dimensional arguments.

Time after time, he would try, only to find he had nothing more to offer.

Before he learned when it was appropriate to horse around, to put yourself at risk, and when it wasn't.

Jackson stared up at him, expression vacant.

Apparently, he had just reached that conclusion for himself.

" . . . "

Bill shook his head. "You don't know that. Don't be foolish for foolishness' sake. It'll save you a lot of embarrassment down the line."

Then, stooping closer, he added with a stage whisper, mouth hidden behind the back of his hand:

"And you know the others would never let you hear the end of it."

Jackson's face instantly screwed up in indignation.

"Oh, then I'd get _them_ back. There's still a bag of plastic spiders I have that Wyatt doesn't know about."


	8. Epilogue AU: Wait It Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ...Ever have that friend who doesn’t know what it is to hush?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another one for Abby Uris, because. :3

Abby usually noticed things were not what they seemed early on.

Oddly enough, it still took a while for her to realize the black-and-white bird was different for more reasons than just being bigger and louder than the others.

She had no way of knowing it wasn't indigenous to Georgia.

She didn't think to look at one of Daddy's bird books. Not when she could just sit at the window and see for herself.

Most other crows didn't have those white patches.

They couldn't imitate a child's laugh with such eerie precision.

And that the crow tended to appear at the backyard birdbath, to drink or to just splash about, whenever her friend Pennywise was absent, that much was not lost on Abby.

So, next time there was an opportunity to birdwatch together, she called him out on it.

Gathering up a handful of her sleeve's cuff, the four-year-old dabbed at the excess moisture on his wet chin before either of them had spoken. She could remember the reverse of this being true in many instances with the high chair in the kitchen, where it was his cuffs that kept milk from dribbling down her face.

"You missed a spot."

Pennywise snorted softly and pretended to shy away from her fussing, but the little smile gave his true feelings away on that for all to see.

All being just the two of them at that moment.

Surrounded by immacuately-trimmed hedges, the backyard was as safe a place as any for her shapeshifting caretaker to be. No curious eyes would spot him there.

Not that he couldn't take care of that himself if they had.

But just as much as the entity watched out for her, Abby liked to think she was capable of doing the same.

With the water damage seen to, they settled down to wait, and watch, though the partitions in the porch's railing.

"SometHing got the bread cruSt."

Referring to the unwanted sandwich remnant Abby had stashed for her experiment, she took another look across the yard.

The platform feeder, sitting atop a pole at the northeast corner, was empty.

It still held the usual assortment of sunflower seeds and grains.

But no greater offerings to attract their intended target.

"Oh? You sure it wasn't you?"

Pennywise's blue eyes rolled themselves aside. "Noo, I toLd you, I don't care for whEat." He stilled a moment, gaze going distant and narrow-eyed as it often did when his ear caught something only it could detect. He sat up on his hands.

Still leaning on her elbows, Abby waited a beat before putting her doubts into words: "Daddy says they won't come."

Her surveilance partner took another panning glance around before easing back down. Lying where they were, side-by-side, this was as low-profile a place to watch from without stepping into the yard.

"Not right aWay, no. We have to be quiEt."

"You, quiet?"

"ShH!"

Abby smiled, but hushed obediently, lively brown eyes turning skyward. This late in the afternoon, the clouds were starting to turn murky-orange-veering-toward-hot-pink. There wasn't much in the way of smog, but had the warning for Atlanta been cleared earlier in the day, Stanley may have let them start the session sooner.

Blasted pollutants spoiling their fun.

Abby chanced a look at her wristwatch. Thirty minutes, then it was time for dinner.

The clown didn't appear concerned with the impending passage of seconds. He simply lay there, chin sitting on his wrists, eyes flicking first one way, then the other.

Then back.

Then two different ways at once.

Giggle.

Pennywise glanced back over, hissing sharply through his teeth. " _AbBy_."

She blushed. "Sorry."

.

. .

. . .

. . . .

"Maybe the neighbor's cat got them."

Sigh. "Abs..."

"I'm just saying, _maybe_."

.

. .

. . .

. . . .

"There's no thistle. Thistle's their favorite."

Sigh. "Doesn'T mean they're not hungRy."

" _I_ 'm starting to get hungry."

"FibBer. I don't hear any stomaChs growling."

Pout. "Aw..."

.

. .

. . .

. . .

. . .

"...Is this really what Daddy used to do back in Derry?"

Pennywise's laced-up back rose and fell in another, quieter sigh, but his answer sounded genial enough. "When I meT him, yes. For hours, he'd wait and wait."

"Hours?" Abby's voice was almost awed.

Almost.

"HouRs."

"How'd he do it?"

" _QuieT_ ly."

"Ohhh!"

.

. .

. . .

. . . .

. . . . .

. . . .

. . .

. .

.

* * *

_20 Minutes Later_

* * *

"And then I said, 'no, there's no way.' And Auntie Bev said, 'why not'? So I went, 'because he doesn't. He just pretends to'."

Speaking of pretending, Abby...

" _Penny_!"

A very-fake-sounding snore answered her.

Before she could pounce in retaliation, Patricia Uris' voice sounded off from somewhere beyond the sliding screen door.

"Abby, time for dinner!"

Said girl did not let that distract her.

She had some punishment to exact.

"Umph!"

Tackled as he was by a rightfully-outraged four-year-old, Pennywise fell flat against the porch. He belatedly thought to struggle, then remembered this wasn't being dogpiled by the Losers in the backyard of 29 Neibolt Street, three decades ago. The arms wrapping around his neck from behind weren't there to choke him.

They were there to hang on, just so Abby could snicker in his ear.

He froze instead, half-standing on his hands and knees, with the girl balanced atop his shoulders.

"I wasn't sleePing, honesT," he protested, in vain.

Were she forced to decide between mind-numbing exasperation and mirth, to think that anything so ludicrously _boring_ could be this fun, Abby decided an impromptu wrestling session was the best possible outcome of this latest stint.

No goldfinches.

Dad could _keep_ his birdwatching.

Not even Pennywise could fake being interested in it for this long.

"Sure, and I'm the Queen of Australia."


	9. Epilogue AU: The More They Change

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Abigail, we need to talk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part 1 of 2.
> 
> Callbacks to a few _ITerations_ moments included. Be sure to read up there before going through this one.

_Slam!_

"Ow! AbS?!"

She halted mid-step, dress ruffles whirling to a stop.

How?

The timing was just uncanny.

Torn between her boiling outrage and burgeoning mild alarm, Abby thought for a moment not to answer the high-pitched cry.

She couldn't have hurt him. He wasn't that-

Concern won out. Just for a second.

She twirled back around, opened the door again, hand lingering on the gold-plated knob.

Pennywise crouched on her bedroom threshold. He was wincing, eyes pinched, delicately holding a hand to his red nose as if it had been broken in the impact.

Which, of course, it wasn't.

But from the way he glared at her through the tops of his eyes, he was probably more agitated than he was in pain.

There. Crisis averted.

And far from being happy to see him, the four-year-old remembered why she was angry in the first place.

She tried to close the door again.

" _You_ can go away, too."

Predictably, Pennywise braced a glove flat against the hardwood door, holding it with ease despite her best attempts to force it shut. It looked a bit like a chihuahua trying to fend off a doberman. Ignoring her grunts and struggles, the entity forced his head and shoulder through the gap.

He leaned low, to account for the difference in height.

"Ab _By_..."

Abigail Uris scowled over at him, standing far forward at an angle on her buckle-shoed toes, both hands pressing against her side of the door. Leaning the whole of her weight against it didn't seem to be doing any good.

But she wouldn't let that stop her from trying.

She made her best attempt at an intimidating growl.

"Go _away_ , Penny. I _mean_ it."

He snorted, ruby lips turning up in a smirk. The childish insistence in those two words was endearing enough on its own.

And the delivery?

Just _adorable_.

"Oh, realLy?"

With only one fingertip positioned on the door's edge, he made a slow, deliberate show of pushing it open. The hinges creaked omniously.

Well-oiled as they were, with no signs of wear, the noise was purely a figment of his present influence.

Abby scoffed, struggled, tried in vain to reposition her feet. Fiercely, she threw herself against the flat surface, shoulders hunching up with strain. She dug her heels deep into the bedroom carpet.

"Penny, _no_."

He shook his head, practically tutting in disapproval.

"Abs."

The hinges kept keening.

Then there was a soft _thump_ and _ting_ of bells as he set a shoulder against the door, wedging it open.

He didn't push back. Just stayed there, now playing the part of a costumed doorstop.

To her quiet outrage.

Stalemate reached, they stared each other down for all of a minute.

Then he raised an eyebrow.

" _WhaT_ 's the problem?"

"You'll just take Daddy's side," the toddler blurted out. In earnest, she resumed pushing on the door. "Mmph! Why should I tell you?"

"WhY?" Pennywise raised an eyebrow, blasé as could be. Sandwiched between the door and its frame, he didn't intend to budge. "Because... I'm curiouS."

"Ha!" Abby breathed out, explosively, leaning hard. "No, you're- not. Ugh! You know everything about everything. Why would you be?"

He tilted his head, brows lowering.

"BecauSe I am."

"That's not a reason."

_Now, tilt the other way._

"It is, too."

"Is not."

"Is too."

"Is no- infinity! Ha, got you!"

Pennywise scoffed deeply and rolled his eyes upward, unsure of whether to smirk or scowl.

It was a look that blatantly said, _"Yep, Stan was right. When she's miffed, she goes all out."_

Undaunted, deciding enough was enough, he threaded himself the rest of the way through the door.

Abby gave a little cry, surprised by the new lack of resistance. Her unwanted company caught the swinging doorknob before she could faceplant against it.

Breathing hard, she glared at him from point-blank range.

After a moment, he let go of the door, and gently eased it shut.

He stayed there, balanced in an easy crouch, and crossed his long arms.

They stared for another minute before he spoke again.

"You'Re being ridiculous."

"So are _you_ ," Abby hurled it back at him, hands on her hips - also known as the best Patty Uris impression ever. "I didn't call for help."

His brows lowered again, along with his tone. "You didn'T have to. I heard everythiNg."

"Did not."

"Did- no. Don't starT." Frowning, genuinely-growing annoyed with the lack of progress, Pennywise held up an index finger. To stop himself from caving a second time, or stop whatever she was going to say, no one knew.

Abby took it to mean her, apparently. Huffing in frustration, she spun around and marched over to her dresser. With both hands, she yanked the second-to-bottom drawer open.

Pennywise watched her rifle through her wardrobe, unmoving. This situation didn't call for too much animation on his part.

Yet.

She didn't seem to be looking for anything. More like... she was just looking to look. To somehow vent.

For Georgie, it once meant trashing his room.

Being the young lady in training she was, Abby couldn't bring herself to do the same.

Yet.

One floral-patterned blouse had hit the floor before he thought to speak up again.

"You don'T have to tell me, eitHer, if you don't want."

"Then why are you here?" Abby spat, the same quick snap to anger her father tended toward when frustration became too much to bear. "You say I don't have to talk, that you already heard everything. If I don't wanna talk, what do I need you for?"

Pennywise bared his teeth in brief irritation, eyes centering slowly. The displacement of her emotions wasn't totally unaffecting him, but him keeping a level head about this was the only way to get anywhere.

Stan hadn't asked him to, any more than his daughter had.

Decades after first meeting the Losers, the entity once again took it upon himself to mend their social rifts.

And with Abby, that duty now extended to the new generation just as equally.

_...what do I need you for..._

Brushing off the potentially-hurtful words, he stood up.

Okay.

He would call that bluff out for what it was.

"Alllll right, I _trIed_."

The pretend sigh did just as he hoped.

"What...?"

"No, I heard you rigHt." Without looking, he made a little, dismissive finger-wiggling wave. "Good luck with that, Abs."

"With what?" Hopelessly confused, she gave up doing any damage to her once-folded clothes. Turning back, she stood, took a few uncertain steps his way. "Good luck, with what?"

"HmMm?" Nonchalant, the clown raised an eyebrow, pretending to study his covered fingernails. "I thought you hAd it figured out?"

"I-I- Penny, what do you mean?"

"No, no. You're correct. You know betTer than me? You have somEone else to talk to?" He shrugged high for effect, expression deadpan and pointed off into the middle distance. "Who am I to aRgue?"

_No smiling. Don't smile._

_Not yet._

Abby's mouth worked uselessly, the soundless motion matching her darting, wide brown eyes perfectly.

The clown said nothing more. Only waited. With just a little nudge, he had effectively derailed her self-righteous anger and replaced it with something easier to manipulate.

Bewilderment.

To a four-year-old, thinking fast on your feet wasn't always done successfully.

Particularly when you were thrown for a loop like this.

"I don't... I don't know what you're talking about, Penny."

Arms uncrossing, he took a half-step closer, sharply stooping lower so they could look eye-to-eye again. His arms uncrossed and played out like tentpoles, fingertips poised on the carpet.

He tilted his head, staring out from under furrowed brows, and reminded himself not to smirk.

"Me, _neither_. You teLl me."

Abby took a half step away. Her hands found the nearest ruffle on her dress, which she kneaded uneasily between her fingers. Her eyes started to glisten.

Pennywise sighed heavily, dropped his gaze, feeling momentarily ashamed.

Stupid clown. That move, it was too intimidating. How her nervous system had prickled with fresh-wrought anxiety. He wasn't trying to make her cry.

_She's not Richie or Eddie, you dolt._

_Or Georgie._

_Easy. Go easy on her._

"Sorry..." He withdrew and sat down in one fluid motion, back curved against the door, long limbs folding up around him. "Abby girl, I'm just worried. I'Ve never seen you so- so angRy."

"So?" She sniffed, rightfully upset by his performance. "You- you could be less _mean_ about it."

_...no_ _**idea** _ _what it means to go too far..._

Her eldritch caretaker paused and went still, faint echoes of a thirteen-year-old Stan Uris' voice fading from his ears.

Then, with a bell-ringing twitch, he snapped back to the present.

_Sorry, twofold. You can't know what "mean" is for me._

_I backslide sometimes. Still._

_Stan will tell you when you're older._

Instead, Pennywise folded his arms, hands under his elbows, and hunched his shoulders, hugging himself like he was playing the victim card. "I'm sorry, Abs. I only want to heLp, but I get iT wrong sometimes."

_And that's all you need to hear._

The girl blinked at him in the silence that followed.

Once, twice. A third time.

But with each one, her eyes lost their growing shine. The tears didn't fall.

Her jumpy nerves stilled.

"If you wanted to help, you'd leave me alone."

Pennywise frowned, but offset its stern impact with a raised eyebrow.

_This? We're already back to this again?_

Abby spoke again before he could comment. "It's nothing you can change anyway, Penny. It's done. Daddy says so."

" _WhaT_ is done?"

She looked up, a dejected frown marring her expression. "You said you already heard. You know."

"I did, but I wanT to hear it fRom you, now," he explained, far gentler than before. "Don't you want to teLl me?"

His kicked-puppy face never worked on Bevs.

But it did wonders for getting Abby to lower her defenses.

She took one look at it and crossed over to sit beside him. Her dress bunched up around her legs as she worked herself into the crook underneath one arm, hand reaching across to hold him in a half-hug.

Said half-hug was returned a moment later. He couldn't help giving a gloating little smile, chin gently pressing against the top of her head.

"Knew iT."

"Be quiet," she retorted, voice wavering. "Just... be quiet."

He scoffed one last time, pausing only to kiss those wavy brown locks.

Abby ducked and fussed wordlessly under the touch, heels slipping on the folds of her dress.

But she scooted even closer to him in the process.

Just as he hoped.

She would talk.

When she was ready.

* * *

"Ohhh... StaNny!"

Paper in hand, Stanley Uris almost choked on his tea. Seated at the dining room table, he reared back in alarm at the sight awaiting him over the newspaper's top edge.

Just managing not to breathe his beverage in, he gaped.

Lying on his stomach, balanced on his elbows, Pennywise reclined upon the glossy-finished table as though it were a lounge chair. His eyes glowed yellow, bordering on orange.

Belatedly, Stan thought to cough a spluttery, "What?"

"What, indEeeEd," the clown-beast parroted, and tilted his head in challenge. "LiKe, what's this I hear abOut you not letTing AbS get a puppy?"

Stan held his visitor's gaze for only thirty seconds before laughing - half in a disbelieving sigh, half in amused exasperation. He set the cup and paper aside.

Did the entity really not see the irony here?

"Where do I _start_?"


	10. 1989 AU: Creature Comforts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 1989 AU: Beverly used to have to endure nightmares alone.
> 
> Not anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...This should have been part two or three of this given plotline. Oops?

It was at least a week before the night terrors stopped.

Or... they didn't so much stop as, ease up.

For everything that had been erased and altered to eradicate Beverly Marsh from Derry's surface, It found he had overlooked one crucial bit of editing work.

The girl's own memories.

Of course.

In hindsight, it seemed so obvious. Embarrassingly simple.

But, also in hindsight, It realized the uniqueness of this error.

Most of it could be attributed to the fact that, this was the first time he had ever had reason to overlook such a thing.

It was the first time he had taken a mortal under his proverbial wing.

So, of course, there would be things he simply forgot to do.

Spiriting her away from her old home had been the easy part. The obvious part.

After that had come a lot of careful tweaking, nudging, string pulling around town.

He was so focused on those matters, without addressing the biggest problem lingering right under his nose.

By the time he realized it, it was almost too late.

But as quick as they veered off course, they veered back.

* * *

She was still getting used to a lot.

The new reality that was her second chance. The notion her newfound protector lived underground. The changes that would have to occur to her diet. The fact that the being who looked like a clown was not at all what he appeared to be.

Besides all that, Bevs was just getting used to being called Bevs.

Not Beverly.

As such, it took a few 'nights' before she settled down enough to appreciate the privacy of the circus wagon. Not that there wasn't safety enough underground, out of the light, but having one area to call her own helped. Then, it started to feel like a proper little den. Better yet, was the solitude of the cistern, the nexus from which all the tunnels seemed to radiate from like the center of a spider's web.

And she was the honorary spiderling.

Already, it felt about ten times safer than the apartment on Main Street ever had.

Ten times, and counting.

She still had trouble falling asleep, though.

While he stuck by her side for hours at a time, Penny didn't seem to understand. Gathering food for her wasn't his only learning curve to overcome. Keeping her company for as long as her eyes were open, that came naturally. But he didn't know that to put someone to bed wasn't as simple as "here's a blanket, a pillow, now sleep".

He didn't know what it was to tuck somebody in.

Bevs supposed she couldn't blame him. He was... odd sometimes, even about the normalist of things.

He was learning as much as she was.

So, at first, she tried not to fuss. That wasn't considerate of her, after pleading with him as she had. She didn't complain about any lack of attention (for those moments were as few as they were unintentional), or her small rations of food (if table scraps and lichens could be called food).

To some extent, she was already used to that.

Daddy, through his ignorance, had made sure of it. Through his negligence, he had assured it.

But Penny wasn't Daddy.

He was trying to do better.

So, by the fourth night, when Bevs awoke, twitching and crying, she had expected to wake up alone. To find herself almost lost in a nest of old blankets and stained pillows. It was warm and dry here, but she had expected to be as isolated as ever.

Instead, someone was there with her.

Bevs turned over, pulled the blanket from over her head.

Looking up, she spied two anxious eyes, peering down at her.

Despite the leftover tears on the girl's cheeks, she promptly burst out giggling.

"Bev... BeverLy?"

His confused tone of voice...

Snorting, Bevs pulled the blanket back over her head.

Silly clown.

He got it backwards.

Her giggles turned to laughter.

Maybe it was the hunger, making this seem more funny than it really was. Or maybe it was the lack of actual, restful sleep just making her touchy, sensitive.

That dummy.

Instead of tucking her in, he was there _after_ she woke up.

She kept laughing for some minutes, curled into a ball under the blanket, before he dared speaking up again.

Like he was... unsure of how to take this reception.

"Uhm, BeVs?"

The five-year-old snickered, willed herself quiet again, and pulled the blanket down from her face, just far enough to reveal her eyes.

He was still there, standing stooped over. His hands were held before him, with that same peculiar look on his face.

Like he didn't know whether to smile or frown.

"Is... something wroNg?"

Bevs sniffed, wiping at her nose. She glanced away, considering her short list of answers.

_I'm kinda hungry. Again._

_I'm a little scared. Even now._

_I'm still tired._

_You didn't-_

"BeverLy."

With only that for a warning, he crouched down. He leaned close, arms held out to either side for balance, shortening the gap between their faces.

She blinked, eyes going wide, pressing back against the filthy pillow.

He looked concerned enough, but that move-

_How Daddy used to loom over me-_

"Were you... having another bad dReam?"

The girl sniffed again, blanket still bunched up around her face.

She didn't dare drop it, lest he see an expression from her that he didn't like the look of.

"How- how do you know I was- "

He didn't interrupt, verbally.

But the way his red mouth creased downward in a frown, that stopped her mid-sentence.

Shivering again, Bevs felt new tears welling up already.

At what?

Her own painful memories?

His reaction?

Why?

She had asked him to take her in so things wouldn't _be_ so sad anymore.

How come they still were?

He must have noticed her eyes, how they were filling up again.

Slowly, hesitantly, he reached over.

Then stopped, hand frozen in midair.

Just like... he didn't know what to do.

Bevs sniffed one last time, wiped her nose with the blanket's edge, and blinked.

Careful to avoid his touch, she sat up, held the blanket to her chest.

"How- how can you know _that_ , but you d-don't know what it is to tuck someone in?"

Pennywise blinked, slowly, deliberately. His irises stayed blue.

Despite the oppressive darkness of the wagon, she could see his eyes. They never lost their glow, even in the daytime.

The entity's frown didn't ease.

But it didn't deepen any further.

After a thoughtful pause, he let his poised hand drop back to his side.

Straightened up, holding back at a safer distance.

"...It isn't just thaT, is it?"

"It would've _helped_ , Penny," Bevs whined. Normally, she wouldn't have dared, never thought to take on such a vulnerable tone.

But again, this wasn't Daddy.

Penny wouldn't strike her for simply changing her voice.

And he had asked, taken more of a step in righting this wrong than Alvin ever had.

In the past, when the nightmares had gotten the better of her, Beverly remembered waking up crying.

Sometimes, Daddy would look in on her.

But he would only go as far as the open bedroom door.

With one glance, he would close the door.

Sniffling, Beverly would wipe her eyes, curl up, and try to go back to sleep.

If she somehow managed, then woke up squealing again, middle of the night, no one would check on her.

She learned to give up trying the bedroom door when it was closed. Daddy would lock it so she couldn't go anywhere.

Not to him, not to Mommy.

Nowhere.

She would be left to suffer alone.

Daddy was good about tucking her in. Sometimes.

But he never comforted her when it mattered.

Penny had it backwards, maybe, but he was already half right.

Which was more than the quarter-of-a-time Alvin ever got it right.

Like how the clown was listening to her now.

Calling him out on his mistake.

He didn't grumble or look away or snap at her to be silent.

Mutely, he stayed there, accepted the answer for what it was.

He finally sagged in place, like a sad-looking puppet, and hung his head in defeat.

"Sorry, deareSt one. I'm trying, but... I try wrong sometiMes."

Bevs blinked, chin ducking against her covered hands.

_I... guess that makes sense._

_At least he admits it._

_Daddy would have never admitted it._

"Will you- s-stay this time, please?" she asked, voice wobbly. "I just- I won't wake up again, if you stay."

At that the clown smiled. It was the same quirky, little half-smile he had given the day they met.

He seemed at once amused and bemused by her reasoning.

"That so?"

"Will you, ple- _eep_."

The girl squeaked, belatedly thinking to scoot aside, to avoid being hit.

Pawing aside a wide swath of blankets, Pennywise instantly made space enough to curl up beside her.

No more questions asked.

Bevs sat there, astonished at how little convincing it had taken, but when he reached over to pull her close, she dove in without a second thought. The warm folds of that suit were a vast improvement to those icky, old blankets.

Her new roommate held still long enough for her to get comfortable, then draped an arm across her far shoulder. From there, she wiggled her way into place, nestling in the crook between his chest and elbow.

Lying side-by-side, she couldn't think of a more ideal place to be than in his shadow.

"BetTer?"

Bevs giggled again, fidgeting a moment longer, trying to put her pillow between her head and his arm.

Then, abruptly deciding against it, she tossed the pillow aside.

His arm would be her pillow.

"Heh-hee. _Much_ better."

Held close, both arms woven around her, she felt him nuzzle against the back of her head, breath ruffling her hair.

Content, she sighed and pulled the blanket up to her chin, eyes smiling themselves shut.

In her mind's eye, she saw him doing the same.

"No more nightmaRes, Bevs. Not for you, no. I promiSe."


	11. 1989 AU: Fringe Benefit?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 1989 AU: You can’t hang around a supernatural presence like this for so long without being affected in some way.
> 
> Sorry, Bevs. Better to have them and not need them, right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Post “Disturbing The Peace”.

It didn't sleep.

He pretended to, for the sake of his adopted company. And, most times, it was enjoyable enough, to know she was able to rest easy simply because he was there. Most of that need could be attributed to her tender age, but it was one demand that was simple enough to satiate.

For an entity as old as he was, wasting time was of no consequence.

And in his mind, with regard to her welfare, it was by no means a waste of his time.

Alas, then came a complication he had all-too-conveniently overlooked.

Or ignored as even being possible?

He was still deciding on that.

* * *

As such, It felt the twinge of oncoming pain sting his senses and opened his eyes in the milisecond before the girl had even thought to cry out. He reached out and wound an arm around her shoulders as she whimpered, still half asleep, automatically bringing both hands to her mouth.

The newness of her burgeoning discomfort compelled him to ask.

"Bevs? What's wroNg?"

She only shook her head, eyes creaking open, as tears leaked from the outer corners. The foggy haze of sleep cleared fast after that.

At the same time, a dribble of red trickled out from under her hands.

From that, he knew, instantly.

_Wrong? Right?_

_...We'll see._

It balked, but didn't stop to let petty panic get a foothold on him. He sat up, lying beside her as he had been in their nest within the wagon, helped her to raise up on her dirtied knees. Placing a hand alongside her skull, he heard the crackling throb of agony sing through her bones as clearly as she surely felt it.

What was effortless and painless for him was torture to her mortal form.

He winced, but kept his voice steady, comforting. "It's- it's okay, Bevs. I know, it hurTs."

"Why?" Muddled as it was, the girl still tried to choke out a question. Her eyes pinched shut. "What's- "

Gently, he set his brow against her's, virtually nose-to-nose.

"ShhH, it's all righT."

A moment later, the hurt was gone. Eased. It forced his form to breathe out, to show some audible expression of relief. Then he curled around her in a tight hug, which she earnestly returned.

Her whimpering quieted, but her fingers left bloody smears on his suit.

He paid it no mind. Pulling that minor hurt from her awareness, the entity would just as soon as made her forget it even happened.

A temporary fix, at best.

This was just the first of many instances he would soon have to numb.

At that realization he scoffed, indecisive, snuffling breath ruffling her stringy red hair. He knew what he was in for. Was it better, to tell Bevs what she was to endure? Or wait, feign indifference, postpone it until after?

No. No lies.

He had been nothing if not honest in the month's time they had spent in each other's company.

All of that same month, he had wondered if- could it- _when_ this would happen.

Here was the answer.

And Bevs was tough. Tough enough to hear the truth.

She had come to accept a lot in a very short span of time.

What was one more revelation?

But this...

Was this taking it too far?

It wheezed, smothering a laugh at his own foolishness.

Taking it too far.

How funny was that?

Besides his being mad enough to agree to their arrangement, Bevs had already taken things too far for ever asking him to become her protector in the first place.

By now, she was the official-unofficial expert on It.

The only one of her kind.

Not human, but not... his ilk, either.

She may as well learn everything.

Be Its own cathexis.

Know all there was to know.

Past, present, and future.

* * *

"There they aRe."

Bevs froze. With one of her guardian's lanky fingers hooked gently in the corner of her mouth, her brow furrowed, whereas she really would have liked nothing more than to frown. What she saw wasn't computing.

The dirtied, cracked mirror didn't have much solid surface left.

But there was one segment of the fractured pane just large enough for her to see by.

Her own freckled face, she could view most of it there, crouched where they were before the mirror, leaning against the remains of a wooden crate. Weak, gray light filtered down in broken shafts from a grate set in the tunnel's roof.

She could see themselves, along with the roof of her opened mouth, held at an angle like this.

What were those little jagged bits, just peaking out between her gums and lips?

They hadn't been there before.

It watched, feeling equal parts bizarrely-proud and uneasy, as she reached up with one curious fingertip.

Reached inside-

He grabbed for her wrist with his free hand.

"CarefuL. You'll cut youRself."

Bevs froze, eyes shifting his way.

Slowly, she retracted her finger.

A moment later, he let go of her face. She winced, held her jaw as if it were still paining her.

It would be again, soon enough.

"What- what do you mean, cut myself?"

It smiled.

In sympathy.

"Just leave iT be, Bevs. You shouldN't play with your neW teeth until they'Ve settled."

* * *

A few hours later...

"Is that... the- _pah_ \- the l-last of them?"

It sighed, swept the last of the shed baby teeth into the nearby drain. That much housekeeping, he was happy to do. The tiny off-white things were all but swallowed up in shadow.

They had been as temporary for her in her old life as the set that grew to replace them would be.

He sat back on his heels, glancing over at his erstwhile patient.

How was she recovering?

After a moment of hesitation, he crawled back to her side.

Bevs tossed her head in discontent and tried to spit again, ineffectively, pawing at her bloody chin. She was long past the initial pain of the ordeal, as with each wave her guardian had either numbed it or taken said discomfort onto himself.

For now, though, her new array of fangs gnashed uneasily. She winced, annoyed by the strangeness that was so many sharp points not meant for a human maw to house.

There were at least twice as many now, where once she had a measly twenty primary teeth. The fangs were almost too big, what with how the curving points jutted past her lips, tips interlocked in a jagged, up-and-down pattern. Her face, for the moment, was stuck in a twisted, unfitting grin.

Looking on, It let his own teeth morph and extrude accordingly, cracking his jaw in a wide mock-yawn for good measure.

Or was it really a mockery?

In part, the mental exhaustion he felt was real. Hearing her soft, confused whimpers, talking her through the process, that had done a number on his imitation-nerves and heart. It was much more work than he had counted on.

Bevs glared sideways at him, a silent, scornful gaze that said laugh-it-up-buster. The yawn was anything but mirrored. She crossed her arms and fumed, unable to utter much else. With her oversized, goblin-like teeth protruding, the effect was purely comical.

At that sight, It did laugh.

Not profusely.

But still an understanding chuckle.

She would grow into them.


	12. Epilogue AU: Covert Op

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cookies are overrated, Abby.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have I caused any deaths by fluff overdose with this collection yet? X3

Shuffling backwards off her bed, Abby hadn't taken one step toward the door before something shot out to wrap around her ankle.

A snickery-sounding voice stuttered out from under the ruffled bedskirt.

"And just _wheRe_ do you think you're going?"

Briefly, she considered not answering.

Then decided against that. There was no point.

Therein lay the problem when your best friend was an all-seeing, all-knowing entity.

No matter what he looked like, he could be lurking anywhere.

Ready to interfere at a moment's notice.

Lying there, tossing and turning, she deliberated for at least ten minutes. From that, Abby knew her margin for success had dwindled almost immediately. She had thought about it long enough to realize her pyjama pants had ridden up her legs. Smoothing them down, she made up her mind, and tried to get underway.

Instead, this happened.

Still, she sighed out an answer:

"Downstairs."

The bedskirt gave a telltale swish.

Abby closed her eyes, crossing her arms.

The presence that seemed to sprout up at her side was no figment of imagination. But that didn't mean she had to dignify his entrance with a cursory look.

"Whyyy?"

She thought of employing the classic "nothing" denial, but just as quickly remembered how useless it would prove. So useless, it shouldn't even count as a valid excuse.

Better to tell the truth.

"Snack run."

There was a sharp huff as Pennywise scoffed through his teeth.

"You don't need a snacK, Abs. Dinner was only two hourS ago."

Dinner, with no dessert.

Why?

Just because.

Mommy didn't always have one planned, whether it be pies or cakes or other sweets.

But Abby had thought today was cause for a dessert. The assignments she had brought home from the daycare were impeccably scored. She had done better than anyone else in her age group.

Darn it, those cookies aren't gonna eat themselves.

...That would be freaky.

Abby shuddered and opened her eyes, trying her best not to imagine it.

Instead, she went for plan B, and latched onto the nearest distraction. His arm was right there, after all.

"Will you go get me one, Penny?"

The creature, eyes glowing bright blue in the dark, glanced sideways and down at her. And it was not a promising sight. That new stonewall-of-an-expression would take some chipping to get through.

"...WhaT?"

"A cookie? Please?"

Pennywise raised an eyebrow, then sighed through his nose.

Despite appearances, he respected the rules of the house.

He wouldn't defy Stan (not unless there were something in it for said It).

Obliging his four-year-old daughter with an unauthorized treat?

He was pretty sure that was against the rules.

"Now, if Daddy said you couldn'T have one- "

"He didn't say. He didn't even offer. Neither did Mommy." With both of her arms, Abby hugged his bicep even tighter, huddling close. "Pleeease?"

Puppy eyes.

Perfect time to practice her take on them.

"...No."

"Penny."

"NopE."

Abby frowned, took her hands back, and crossed her arms all over again.

"Ehrm, fine. You don't _care_ about what I need."

"What you- " Pennywise stopped midsentence, shook his head. "It's not a cookIe you need, Abs. It's what yoU want. What you neeD is sleep."

This again?

Him talking her into unwanted naptimes usually ended just as poorly.

How dare he bring that up.

Abby pouted even harder, tossing her head to one side, nose in the air.

"But I'm _not_ tired."

Something nudged her shoulder.

"Yes, you aRe."

"Am not."

He leaned even closer.

"Yesss... you _are_."

Looking away as she was, that was where things really went wrong.

"And if noT, you wiLl be."

Off her guard, Abby didn't have a chance to defend against the wiggling fingers that snaked under her elbows.

No chance to defend, meant there was only one other option.

To escape.

With a yelp, she tried to dance away, to flee- forgetting the side of the bed was right there. It brought her attempt up short.

Still, she clawed franctially at the comforter, trying to get a grip, to try and somehow pull herself out of range. "N-n-no!"

"Yes..."

Inspired, Pennywise grabbed for the plush comforter's edge, pulled it down from the mattress. It slid easily against the clean cotton sheets.

Trying to twist away, Abby slipped against it. The curve brought her up short before she could hit the carpet, like a makeshift hammock.

He leaned over, way too close, trapping her against it. "Yes, you _will_ bE."

Meanwhile, the teasing didn't let up. One flickering hand followed her every move.

Somehow, it was worse than having a bare feather flutter across your skin.

"P-Penny, no! I- e-heh-hee-hee! No, n-no t-tickling!"

Her protests fell on deaf ears.

"Well, I gotTa make sure you're tired, don't I?"

Struggling, kicking at his shins didn't help, either.

"No, y-you- ah-ha-ha-heh, quit! Yo-ou d-don't. You're- e-hee-hee!"

Feebly, she fought back, grabbing at his arms, trying to push them away.

"This torTure isn't worth a cookie, Abs."

She gasped, expression faultering. Tears of laughter were beginning to flow. Still, she tried to muffle her cries.

The laughter was going to wake Mom and Dad. Their room was only just down the hall.

"N-nah-no-ho, it's worth- eh-hee! It's not! I give! Igiveup!"

Mercifully, the hands stilled.

Abby blinked the wetness from her eyes, breathing fast, trying to get her composure back. Still, the smile that remained plastered across her face wouldn't just let itself go.

Pennywise smirked down at her.

"...There, was that so hard?"

Eyebrows furrowing, Abby tried her best to frown, to be pretend-upset.

The smile wouldn't go away.

Not even as he used a fingertip to dab the tears from her face.

"You're a litTle more ticklish than GeorgIe was."

"Heh. Just a little?"

Pennywise nodded.

"A litTle."

Then he glanced away, pretending to reconsider it, and shook his head again.

"Nah, a _lot_ moRe."

Abby giggled one last time, struggling up to gift him with a grateful hug. She almost laughed again, feeling a glove brush against her ribs, but it only settled there to rub her back. With an ear pressed against the ruffles, she heard and felt his chest resonate with an approving purr.

...Okay.

Maybe she was feeling a little fatigued after all that.

Tickle fights always trumped cookies.

She just needed a reminder.


	13. Epilogue AU: Peace Talks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part 2 of “The More They Change”.

Abby hesitated in the ornate hallway, gazing up at the open doorframe as if she were entering the dining room of a stranger's home. She blinked, growing acutely nervous, fingers clenching and unclenching.

She breathed in, out, in again. Held it.

Then tried to turn back.

"Mm- _mmm_!"

She didn't spin halfway around before the plan derailed.

Something blunt jabbed itself into the back of her head.

Not to hurt, just to encourage.

" _Go_."

Held hostage at fingerpoint, there was no point in arguing with Pennywise.

Or maybe there was.

But nothing good could have resulted from it.

Shoulders tensing, Abby exhaled, drew another tense breath. Let it out.

Then, hands working nervously, she stepped inside.

"...Daddy?"

Forty-year-old Stanley Uris glanced up from his ledger. One of his arms rested on the table, hand poised to turn the page. With the other, he held a pen at the ready. He set it aside and smiled at the sight of her. "Abigail. Feeling better?"

Faced with this otherwise-genial reception, his firstborn tried to double-back again. The hem of her dress flared, she turned so sharply.

Only to be met with the same silver-suited roadblock as before.

"Ugh, Pen _ny_..."

Stan sat back in his chair, awaiting the inevitable.

Framed in the doorway, four-year-old Abigail Uris looked all the more lithe and petite, dwarfed by the man-shaped backdrop barring her exit. Her bright blue-and-white dress only made her stand out all the more sharply against him.

By contrast, the creature's pale, red lined face looked appropriately intimidating when it was arranged in a dip-lipped scowl. Without glancing away, he stooped down, gently set one paw-of-a-hand atop her shoulder, and steered her around.

"Abby, get _in_ there."

Stan was mindful not to scoff too loudly, unable to help thinking of Richie declaring those same words (though It forwent the British accent).

The sight was as endearing as it was totally bizarre.

_Good thing Patty's still at work._

For more than one reason.

But at that moment, the thought of making amends was chief among those reasons. Minus the extra input, it wasn't that Patricia wouldn't have had any valid points to make. Just that one-on-one talks were inherently easier to patch up.

He wasn't mad at Abby, not at all. Still a little disgruntled, but this was only a bump in the road. Lord knew Stan had suffered in silence through more than a few of those with his own parents.

Key difference being, where his parents would have frozen his protests out, he wasn't about to follow the same example. Abby may have run to her room in the aftermath of their heated argument, but only an hour later she had reappeared.

Maybe not one-hundred percent of her own accord, but this was after a little cosmic being intervention helped nudge things along.

She was already well-read for her age, and quickly proving to be smart as a whip. But she didn't have it in her to remain angry for very long. Not like Eddie, whose temper had all the staying power of a disgruntled mule.

Still, Abby reluctantly turned back around and stepped into the open space between the door and the table.

She dared to peek up at her father from under her bangs.

Then her head swiveled back again.

Pennywise scoffed in amusement, glancing up and away in a classic don't-look-at-me-like-that motion. While the moment was perfect for a lilting quip, he simply folded his arms.

_Nope. This is between you two now._

"Abby..."

Her eyes went wide as she whirled back around, fingers kneading together. Uneasy.

Stan scooted away from the table, leaning forward on the chair, elbows resting his knees. He would have to offer something more. Clearly, she didn't know where to begin.

"It's okay, honey. I'm not upset."

The girl kept staring, fingers afidget, for another awkward minute before she finally started putting her feelings to words.

In a small, bewildered voice.

So unlike the little spitfire who had winged her way up the stairs only a short while ago.

"I... thought you would be."

Stan couldn't help a curious half smirk, raising an eyebrow to match.

"Why?"

She only blinked, ducked her head.

The little, shy flush that crept over her cheeks said everything her mouth wasn't.

Stan shook his head, resisted an urge to sigh. She had no reason to be bashful around him. He just had to say as much.

"Abby, it's natural to be angry sometimes. We all have a temper. It's just a question of how much it takes to set it off."

Pondering his words for another few heartbeats, Abigail's fingers finally stopped kneading. She let her hands drop to her sides, scuffed the toe of her shoe against the hardwood floor.

But her eyes turned up, almost hopeful. "Does that mean- that you changed your mind?"

Stan let his eyes fall shut, told himself to breathe in and exhale. Of course she would try to change the subject.

By bringing up what it was they had originally quarrelled over.

"About a puppy?"

She nodded earnestly.

"Honey, I told you, now isn't... a good time. Puppies can be a lot more work than they are fun."

Unsurprisingly, a big, gangly example stood just outside the dining room. Looking on, holding his words in reserve for the time being, Pennywise scoffed through his teeth and siderolled his eyes away.

_Remind you of anybody, Stanley?_

Just as wisely, Stan made no obvious parallels there and shook his head again.

"Not that I don't think you wouldn't take good care of them. You would, but for now, you've got enough chores don't you?"

"I don't- not _that_ many," Abby protested.

In truth, it wasn't. Keeping her already-tidy room organized, maintaining proper hygiene, sometimes helping dry dishes and fold clothes. There were only a handful of duties the four-year-old had yet been educated in.

"Well, having a puppy is that, four times over," Stan held up his fingers for emphasis. "They chew, they shed, they don't know where to relieve themselves. You have to walk them, feed them, train them. And you may not even get the dog you hoped for in the end if they grow up misinformed."

Abby blinked at the thrice-syllabled word, but gave it a try for herself: "Mis- misinformed?"

"Ugh. _English_ , StanLey."

"That _was_ ," the man retorted, coolly, glancing up again. "See if you don't start using it before the week's out, Mr. In-va-lid."

Taking her father's side in the momentary ribbing, Abby smiled and glanced over her shoulder.

"Were you ever like that, Penny?"

The entity's prickly mood deflated. Gazing sidelong and down at her, a flicker of nervousness crossed his features before he reluctantly played into the question.

"Like whaT?"

"A puppy. Did you have to have someone show you everything?"

At that Pennywise twitched sharply, took a half-step back.

Like he couldn't decide beween retreating or offering a very-abridged answer.

Abby knew and understood he wasn't human, that he had known Stan and the rest of the Losers many, many years ago.

And that was about it.

She didn't need to know more than that.

"Kind of, yesSs..."

Watching this unfold, Stan shrugged. "Took him a while, but he got there."

_For better or worse, right?_

Pennywise glowered at the blandly-delivered jibe, ruffles flaring slightly. " _Hey_."

To the opposite effect, Abby smiled, disarmingly so. "And sometimes, you still get it wrong. That's what you said in the bedroom."

Stan raised another silently-prompting eyebrow.

Appreciating it, Pennywise sighed and let the temptation to bicker die on the vine.

"Yes. Everyone... makeS misTakes, Abs."

"Like us, for fighting over it," Stan concluded, nodding. "Abby, now may not be the best time for a dog, but our friend's better than any puppy I could get you, isn't he?"

"Yes!" To that, the girl's affirmative couldn't have been more clear. All she had needed was to be shown what she had was better than any fanciful wish. Seeming to finally reanimate, she bounded over to grab his leg in a hug. "Yes, he is."

"Already trained, too. Pen?"

Sensing where this ploy was headed, the clown's scathing glare of _RealLy?_ was the only response Stan received.

"Sit."

It had the desired effect.

Seconds later, he was seated on the dining room floor, arms crossed, legs sprawled. Abby's arms were wound around his neck, as the girl giggled into his ear. Glancing up at his sour visage, she patted his orange locks as one would a disgruntled dog.

"There's a good Penny."

Stan, meanwhile, laughed quietly behind one hand.

Because how else could you see this would-be negotiation wrapping up?


	14. 1989 AU: Weapon Of Choice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Follow-up to "Fringe Benefit?"

Bevs was a quick learner.

Still, for half a day, she practiced. Honed her new skill.

Extend. Retract.

Extend. Retract.

Oddly enough, the intuition she needed, to will the change to happen?

That was already somewhat innate.

And the science wasn't too far off, either. The human body already knew what it was to generate a set of permanent teeth for itself. That programming didn't simply vanish once the last array grew in. It was always there, lying dormant, in the genes.

With Its close proximity, so attuned as they were to one another after a month of near-constant contact, Bevs' mind practically did the rest.

All she had to do was concentrate.

To Its wonder, and later dismay.

Soon enough, she was playing back-and-forth with her new set of chompers. Shifting from omnivore to carnivore and back, it was like they were a pop-up gimmick out of a children's book.

Only far more deadly.

The pain of the initial transformation was long since behind her.

What was worse, she didn't seem to be heeding Its advice to-

"Oh, for the twentieth time, be _caReful_."

Bevs whined as a strong hand found the back of her neck. Caught in the act, she lifted a hand, to fruitlessly hide her bleeding lip from his view. The curved tips of her many incissors still jutted out at the sides of her mouth.

"Put thoSe away."

With a crackling, wet hiss, the fangs withdrew from sight. Bevs blinked her eyes shut and cringed, shivering as her normal human teeth reformed in her gums.

When she opened her eyes again, Pennywise was there, leaning over her shoulder.

He reached around the opposite way, brushed a finger along her bloodied lip. His red-lined expression fell low at the sight of it.

"You hurt yourseLf. AgaiN."

_No more than it hurt before. Nowhere near._

"Only be-because I closed them too fast," she explained, insistent. "I won't, next time."

The entity sighed, shook his head gently. While he supposed that was true, that she was in the process of learning, she had bled enough for one day.

"Give them a reSt for now, Bevs. I know, it's excitiNg to try out, after the hurting stops, but those- they aren'T meant to be a toy."

"Ohh."

A flush rose in her face, for mingled reasons. Remembering said pain, she felt more than a bit of annoyed at the lack of preliminary information there.

Worst surprise ever.

"Why didn't you warn me it was coming?"

He raised an eyebrow at her, affecting an effectively-puzzled look, light blue eyes glinting in the dark.

"I wasn't sure they _weRe_ , deareSt one. Why warn you oVer nothiNg?"

It was another first for him as much as her.

A first for anyone, really.

Bevs crossed her arms, pouting with the best of them. She supposed she was owed that, the right to be a little upset. "I would've believed you. Like the invisibility, our visits to town, how people don't see us? I've seen you change. I would've believed _this_ could happen."

She wasn't dumb as a brick. Far from it. She was quickly turning out to be the most well-read five-year-old in the possible side-effects of denning up with cosmic-entities-turned-corporeal.

Or was she closer to six-years-old now?

The clown held her gaze for a long, expectant beat before turning aside. He wrung his gloves. His expression wilted, lower lip drawing up behind his buckteeth.

Truthfully, he was very poor at hiding distress.

Then came the confession:

"...I didn't want to scare you."

_Scare me?_

_More than my old life used to scare me?_

_You couldn't._

Bevs could only blink and stare.

Blink, stare some more.

Slowly, she reached up to feel her split lip. Look at the red on her own finger.

Then ask, haltingly: "It... will stop there, won't it?"

Sharply, Pennywise stared sideways at her. "I shouLd _hope_ so."

"Why? Wouldn't it be a good thing, if I could change like you?"

A good thing.

By the anxious hunch of his back, her guardian didn't appear to share the sentiment.

He scowled, pausing only to shuffle around to sit down beside her. "You have a _use_ for thoSe teeth, Bevs. For defense. Better to have theM and not need them."

Bevs blinked. "What's 'defense'?"

"To... keep yourself safe."

His definition proved both satisfying and... illuminating.

_Why?_

_I thought you always would, keep me safe._

_You promised._

Gazing at her, watching her puzzle over as much, Pennywise read between the lines. His eyes got that half-lidded look that always seemed to overtake him in a serious moment.

"You shouldn'T not be able to. Who knows when you migHt need them?"

_I... guess. But..._

Bevs thought hard, again.

She seemed to be doing that a lot more and more lately.

Thinking hard.

"...Then why shouldn't I be the same as you?"

At that, Its expression went grim and flat, brows low and teeth slightly bared, as if notion were suddenly repugnant to him. To think any other life out there could eventually be converted through enough exposure to his very aura.

To think _he_ could be imitated by another.

Wouldn't _that_ be the best form of protection he could bestow on her?

Instead of answering, he fired back a question of his own:

"If you could chaNge as I do... what good, would it do you?"

Bevs held a hand to her jaw, absentmindedly wiping at the dried blood on her pale skin. The redhead wasn't fanciful or dense, so she took another few minutes to ponder.

She knew of her protector's carnivorous tendencies. She knew that was how he fed, on a local assortment of wildlife like rabbits and deer (sometimes the bones found their way back into the cistern), while hers was a mixed diet of pilfered groceries and naturally-occurring snacks found out in the forest.

Like lichens and insects.

Going into winter, though, that would mean more trips into Derry.

He only changed into a real monster to eat, it seemed.

If she were the same as him, wouldn't it make things easier on them both?

Or was "easy" not meant to be part of the equation?

Waiting for her answer, his eyes gradually softened.

Hesitatingly, he reached up, ran his gloved thumb over her lip.

The bleeding had stopped.

"Is iT... something you want?"

At the touch, Bevs snapped out of her thoughtful trance.

It was too much.

Too much for her human brain to house, to appreciate, to consider.

To comprehend.

As yet.

"I... don't know, Penny."

He nodded, seemingly content with the faintly-spoken answer. "No more thaN I do, Bevs. Makes two of us."

She smiled, suddenly, disarmingly.

That was enough seriousness for one day.

She scooted closer, nestling against his chest, wrapped an arm around his back.

He had done what he could to make the process more comfortable.

If not a little less awkward.

"We were always two before, silly."

The costumed entity scoffed, but - with the tension somewhat-released - he gave a small grin in return, ruffling her hair for good measure.

For being a good sport.

"Yeah, we weRe."

The only two either of them needed.


	15. 1989 AU: Lapse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More scene-setting for the 1989 AU, AKA _Wiindigoo_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for language and violence?
> 
> ...You do know what fandom this is meant for, right?

Just like town, the Barrens weren't much to see once all the leaves went away.

Most of the trees grew bare. They turned dull, colorless, dreary to the eye.

But that didn't mean there weren't things to do there.

Bevs kept exploring outside, when the weather proved favorable enough. Here and there, a warm day would show itself. The slushy edges of the streams, half-frozen as they were by a chill the night before, would melt by midday, when the sun saw fit to. The mud would stay cold, but as long as you found a suitable overhang to perch from, you could drink without getting any of it on you.

Head down, maybe that was why she didn't see the two interlopers before they were virtually on top of her.

Foolishly, she had forgotten to keep her ears open.

"You lost, kid?"

The girl froze, water sloshing from her cupped hand.

She didn't pause to think a second longer. Whirling around, she pivoted over her own hands, crouched behind the overhang's protective edge, putting the creek at her back.

It wasn't much of a hiding place, but it was better than standing out in the open.

Where the two hikers were, in the space between the stream and the leafless trees.

At least, she assumed they were out for an afternoon hike.

Besides that, all that mattered was that these two men weren't just hikers.

They were strangers.

_He warned you about strangers._

_Don't say anything._

"Yeah, you- _Jesus_. What happened?"

Eyes still peeping over the edge, Bevs flinched at the man's tone, wiping bedraggled strings of hair out of her eyes. She knew she must _look_ a fright. The dress she wore scarcely resembled itself, any more.

Probably didn't smell too good, either.

Irrelevant.

Time to run.

Who knew what they would try to do? What would be their intent, once they made heads or tails of this discovery?

From the sound of it, they were already letting their curiousity get the better of them.

"Hey, wait!"

Bevs didn't.

She bolted, feet slipping against the bank (the burlap wraps holding her shoes together would need replacing after this), ducking to avoid a low-hanging branch. She yelped as the gnarled tip scratched her bare shoulder, but kept going. Adrenaline would numb the sting of new cuts long enough for her to escape.

The strangers were at a disadvantage already.

She knew the terrain better than them.

Just had to get away fast enough.

Easy.

The mouth of the tunnel was only a hundred feet away. Alreaday, she could see the dark, concrete-encircled gap in the forest.

She didn't count on there being a third man.

"Travis, heads up!"

Ducking and weaving as she had to through the undergrowth, to avoid being snagged, the fleeing girl failed to notice until she had virtually raced right across his path.

"Heads uh- whoa!" She gave an involuntary shriek, feeling a strong hand close around her arm. "Hold on there, missy. You- oh, good _God_."

Bevs didn't stop to appreciate his words, or his expression. She only struggled, fought, and tried to jerk free, lunging ahead. It almost worked.

The hand let go.

She stumbled forward, carried by her own renewed inertia, catching herself on her palms.

Then something caught her again. It snagged the fraying strap of her dress.

Bevs shrieked again, this time in rising anger, in alarm. Regaining her traction, she tried to keep going.

Only to be yanked back.

No!

Unless something gave, like a seam or three, there would be no slipping out of her own dress.

Then the next hand latched on, grabbing her by the back of her neck. By her hair, almost.

The next cry turned into a snarl of frustration.

How unfair.

To be caught so close to home.

The tunnel was right there. She could see the runoff dribbling over the smoothed rocks that littered the edge.

"H-hold still! Ned, Charlie, got 'er!"

Breathing rapidly, Bevs twisted and fought, eyes wild. Fingers clawing at the air, she tried to dive forward again, to get away.

She didn't want to hurt anyone.

She just wanted out.

Twigs snapped as the two once-missing men caught up.

"Je _sus_ H, isn't this a sight?"

"Not what _I_ was expecting, I can tell you that much."

"Or any of us, Tee. She- calm down, honey. No one's gonna hurt ya."

_No._

_You will._

_You always do._

_Sooner or later._

Bevs didn't consider beyond that. Didn't think to turn around, commit any of their faces to memory.

There was no point.

She didn't want an introduction.

She didn't want them to want one.

Eventually, worryingly, her energy began to wane. Dizziness started to take hold.

It probably didn't help that she had missed breakfast that day.

Sagging against her restraints, her high-pitched gasps turned to spent wheezing. Her eyes never strayed from the tunnel.

That.

That was the goal.

Why did it have to be so far away?

Just a few feet-

"-do we do? I'mean, the nearest phone is- "

"We'll have to take her back with us."

"You nuts, Charlie?"

"No. But you got any better ideas?"

"Yeah, _forget_ we ever saw this. How d'you think that'd look, three grown men dragging a little girl out of the woods?"

"Looking like she does? How many- hold still!"

"How many go missing around here?"

"Enough. From that, feral kids isn't too far a stret- "

"Christ, Tee, look out!"

At that point, Bevs thought she heard a tremendous crash. Followed closely by an out-of-nowhere burst of wind, like a tornado had just touched down. Then came a deep-sounding _snap_ , like a nearby tree had been bent over with all the ease of a straw. Closely following that was a loud, low, guttural snarling.

Whipping around, making the most of the sudden slack she had, she grabbed for the hand on her arm.

And promptly sunk her teeth into it.

Deep.

As a last resort.

Defense.

She hadn't liked the idea of having to hurt anyone, to save herself.

But that was where they were at now.

From there, the yelling devolved into a chorus of terrified screams.

Pulling back, Bevs felt her teeth drag against skin, thin as it was over boney fingers.

Thin and full of sensitive nerve endings.

She tasted blood, coppery and warm in her mouth, and let go, as did both of the hands.

That time, she did stumble, almost sprawling facefirst into the leaf-littered dirt.

With a noise that was half laugh of relief, half whoop of delight, she jumped up. Spitting out the blood, she started running again.

And kept on going.

Paid no mind to the fracas unfolding behind her.

Yes!

Finally, made it.

Darkness.

Safe, familiar darkness.

No light to see by.

And even better...

No light to _be_ seen by.

Her outstretched hand found the tunnel wall, used it as a guide.

She kept following it along long after the sounds of struggle faded into the distance.

Finally, after several back-and-forth turns, following various junctions, she trotted to a reluctant stop. There were no out-of-place sounds here, except for the echoes of her gasps.

Maybe she was supposed to be quiet now. But those couldn't be helped. Just catching her breath after all that would excitement take several minutes. Whatever noises the process made would just have to be made.

She kept her head down, eyes shut, drawing deep breaths.

Lingering as she did, half-leaning against the cold, dripping wall, Bevs heard the skitter of claws.

Several of them, rasping against the concrete.

Distantly at first, then closer.

Until the scraping turned to the shuffle of boots.

Followed by the soft touch of fabric, wrapping across her shoulders. With fumbling hands, she latched onto it, letting herself be pulled in close.

A familiar-feeling nose brushed against her face.

Closely followed by the up-close, chittering purr that filled her ear.

"Good."

Eyes still closed, she hiccupped and nuzzled back, trying her best to purr in return. Stupid human throat wasn't made for that sound, no matter how much she practiced imitating it. Her breaths were unreliable, starting to falter and hitch as she tried to keep back her tears.

Or at least, Bevs had thought those were tears, warm and wet, leaking over her cheeks to drip off her chin.

Later, she would wash the man's blood off her face, and finally think to retract her fangs.

Her rescuer didn't lecture her for the near miss, or for not being more observant.

And she didn't think to ask him why he hadn't interfered sooner.

She was simply happy to be back.

As was he.

The way he flashed a sharp-toothed smirk and hugged her tight again said so.

" _Good_ giRl."


	16. Epilogue AU: Show, Don’t Tell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pen, meet Vicky.
> 
> Or is it the other way around?

For the longest time, there was silence.

Not on the part of the adults.

But between the two for whom this meeting had explicitly been arranged.

Mostly because they were still a floor apart from one another.

With a proverbial ear always held to the ground, It knew without being told what was to ensue this evening, and maybe for one or two days hence. He knew, between the mansion's foyer and the lavish dining room, there would be a lot of excited chatter, a lot of initial unease. Feelings that had to be worked out, so friendships could be struck up, so he did little to affect matters there.

He knew there was a slim-to-none chance of them being interrupted by any unexpected visitors. Bill and Audra Denbrough didn't live quite as extravagently as other celebrities in their same upper-class income bracket. The property sported a nice, stone privacy fence with a closed-circuit surveilance system. No black-clad security detail in sight, though.

Still, there was enough decorative splendor in the first few rooms to make Atlanta-based Stanley and Patricia Uris feel quaint.

The adults would handle themselves accordingly. Of that, the entity had no doubt. Half of that equation consisted of Bill and Stan. They had matured beyond their years a long time ago, and if there was any social friction between Audra and Patty, one if not both would be able to smooth it over.

Most importantly, It knew Abby would be feeling out of place.

The four-year-old girl minded herself perfectly. She was the outward picture of prim and polite. Graciously, she let herself be introduced to Audra, and forwent a bit of ceremony to gift Uncle Bill with a hug and homemade Georgia postcard.

Meanwhile, It slinked about the corners of their collective peripheral. It went unseen save for a brief, casual wave, from the reflection in a china cabinet door ("BilLy boy, how's iT going?").

Denbrough chanced a little knowing smile in return, but nothing more.

There was a staircase leading to the second floor stood before the stained-glass front door. Practically being channeled down its steps was the as-yet-unseen presence of the Hollywood couple's missing third portion.

Also known as Victoria Denbrough.

...The name alone smacked of _spoiled_.

Pennywise willed the scowl off his painted face, fluidly appearing out of the narrow space behind a bookshelf in the hallway. A few feet past it, the half-open door of a bedroom waited.

Inside, shadows came and went.

Someone was moving about beyond it.

Drawing close, the entity had to pause again, to violently shake his head in spite of having no one to show off said discomfort to. He snorted audibly at the strong overly-floral scent that suddenly went to war with his self-made sinuses.

Pungant, to say the least. It was nothing compared to the light-toned fragrancies Patty seemed to favor.

Perfume?

Gag.

What three-year-old wore perfume?

Okay, maybe not _wore_ it.

But...

Ignoring the strong scent (which he would later discover and write off as the effects of an in-use reed diffuser), he peered inside.

His eagerness to see overcame his caution.

No, this was by no means proper.

But that was the _fun_ of it.

"Ooh, bust _ed_."

Pennywise flinched again, hastily stepping back and down into a defensive crouch. The suit's bells, he thoughtfully kept quieted. He twisted around, eyes wide, hissing under his breath.

"Abs?!"

How?

 _How_ had she managed to time that so perfectly?

She declined to answer then and there.

Instead, his would-be accompliance cleared the last step of the climb and raced over to his side. Far from being annoyed at being left behind with the 'boring' parents, Abigail giggled at spotting him. She latched onto the clown's bicep, heedless of the bell-ringing it induced.

Was she trying to spoil the ambush?

No, not that he was going to ambush anybod-

Why are you looking at us like that, audience?

"You sneak, you were gonna see her, _without_ me?"

"No, I- " The entity stopped short, as Abby suddenly frowned and gave his arm another don't-lie shake (before he could think to 'mute' the bell). He froze, caught red-handed as it were, and pretended to breathe out. "Yes, oh- _kay_. I waS."

She smirked. "Uncle Bill said we could, don't worry."

He spluttered, caught betwixt outrage and alarm in the second time in as many minutes. "Then- why diD- "

"I'll go first."

Pennywise heaved another chest-deep sigh, billowed shoulders sagging low as Abby took the lead, inching her way up to the bedroom door.

_Ohhh, Abby..._

Why did he suddenly get the feeling this was going to end poorly?

She could go barging in as she pleased (even if doing so might- would _definitely_ mean suffering through a lecture from Stan or Patty later on).

He couldn't quite pull the same trick.

Or, he could.

But it would mean wiping memories later.

And despite his very nature, It didn't always care to drastically-alter the mindscapes of those mortals he found favor in.

They deserved to keep their minds intact, whenever possible.

No post-production editing required.

. . .

"Hiya, Vicky!"

The door was swung open.

Robbed of his customary greeting, Pennywise wasn't given time to gripe. He dematerialized on the spot. His form unwravelled and disappated in the space of a second.

Unseen, It slunk through in the awkward beat that followed Abby tossing open the bedroom door.

There, under the bed. Classic vantage point.

Now he could get a good look.

A few heartbeats of stunned silence were all the old-as-time entity needed.

Vicky Denbrough.

At first glance, he didn't find immediate favor in her looks.

Hence, the immediate accepting of a less-genteel nickname, in his mind. No kid was allowed a good reason to glare down their nose at others this early in life.

Not if It had anything to say about it.

Maybe he was too accustomed to the soft, safe, homely energy that was Abby Uris.

This West Coast-born three-year-old couldn't be more different.

Even frozen in shock, features slack, Victoria's sun-toned face managed to look a smidge snooty. One fair eyebrow arched slightly higher than the other, her father's deep blue eyes only offset her mother's arch, slightly-rakish features so far. The cheekbones lent her gaze a severe edge that would probably cleave hearts in two later in life. And her hair wasn't quite the lively, fiery red of Beverly Marsh (make that, Beverly Hanscom), but her own coppery hue. Blended with some darker Denbrough tones, it was a deep crimson that only shone red when light refracted off the locks.

Her current attire consisted of a knee-length red dress, overlaid with decorative white and black trim. A white, long-sleeved shirt with flared cuffs sufficed to break up the near-solid-crimson outfit. Her hair was pinned back in two, simple, black flat-clipped braids.

Her mouth worked once, then she got a few words out:

"Who, are _you_?"

Winging around, sensing impending trouble, It crept back into the physical realm, cringing every step of the way.

The instant shrillness in her tone heralded screaming to come.

Slinking out from under the silky bedskirt, which gave a wave not unlike the flap of a circus tent, the entity pounced before it was too late.

Probably, definitely made it worse in the process.

But later - time to intervene!

" _Daaadd_ \- _mph!_ "

From behind, he clapped a glove over the toddler's mouth. Before she could struggle away, he used the opposite hand to reach around, pull her soundly back against his torso.

Firmly, but gently, he kept his whole-body grip. Her slim frame was easily ensared in the span of one arm.

Vicky didn't struggle. She only froze, breath held in, eyes round and wide, pupils glassy.

Her voice died mid-cry against his palm.

Instantly, Abby's mirth seemed to double at the sight. But, to her credit, she clamped both hands over her mouth before the laughter could overtake her.

Huddled around his unwanted prey, Pennywise scowled at her from over Vicky's shoulder.

" _See_ what you maDe me do?"

At that, his partner-in-crime promptly collapsed in a giggling mess.

He frowned.

_Most unladylike, Abigail._

But then again, what did ladylikeness matter when there were no adults around?

Vicky also seemed to be one from that school of thought.

She made her displeasure at being manhandled known quite fast.

_Chomp!_

"Ow!"

The exclamation broke out before he could stop it. The creature's irises flared instantly to yellow, more from sheer surprise than pain.

He kept hold of the toddler's mouth, despite the blunt teeth that were now driven into the base of his thumb. Her upper lip curled back, the better to match her now-narrowed, livid eyes.

Instead of letting go, the entity growled, impulsively, into her ear.

"You LitTle- "

Just as quickly, Abby rolled to her knees and crawled closer.

It probably didn't help that she was smiling, still convulsing with random giggles, as she tried to talk the situation down.

"No! No, Vicky. Please, it's okay." She climbed to her feet. "We're not- heh, we're not here to hurt you."

Pennywise sighed, eyes blinking blue again.

To think, all of this drama had gone to waste.

"Then, _why_ the theatRics, Abs?"

She chuckled one last time. "I told you, Uncle Bill said it was okay."

" _Mm-mi?_ "

With her lips still muffled, frozen mid-bite, Vicky's pronounciation was less than stellar.

"He diD, really?" Pennywise asked instead, tilting his head. His newest expression was beyond-skeptic. Undoubtedly, he _would_ follow up on this claim later. "When did 'taKe his daughter hostage' become parT of the plan?"

Abby smiled even wider and shrugged as though it were obvious. "How else were you two supposed to meet?"

He sighed, eyes rolling shut.

Probably performed in lieu of a facepalm, as his hands weren't free to do so.

_Civilized-like, for starters._

_Haven't I practiced that enough to be afforded as much?_

Shaking her head at her friend's melodramatic display, Abby reached up to pat his cheek.

Yeah, like _he_ was the one in need of consoling.

He opened his eyes to glare her down.

She only smirked in return.

"You can always alter the memory later, Penny."

" _Mm-mii!_ "

Scowling, surrendering to the absurdity of this introduction, Pennywise glanced down at Vicky, looked at her teeth that were still sunk gums-deep into his palm. Her saliva was making it damp.

"Hush, yoU."

Her dark eyes darted left, then right, then up and back to him.

Blinked.

Then her brow relaxed, as if a thought had just occurred to her.

The pinch of her teeth eased to match.

And she refused to hush.

"Ym-Mmr... Mm- _ney_?"

Her captor raised an eyebrow.

_If that was what it sounded like..._

Throwing caution to the wind, acting only on a random hint of an idea, he risked a greeting:

"HiYa, VicKy?"

He felt, and saw, the corners of her mouth turn up in a smile.

Saw how her eyes lit up with excitement.

Resigned to his fate, the corporeal entity sighed a third time, and let go of her mouth.

From there, Vicky broke into her own excited fit of laughter, whirling around in place to embrace him. She nuzzled right up against the edge of his collar like it was already an old, favorite hiding spot.

Abby joined in, their new friend sandwiched between their bodies, giggling resuming in earnest.

Pennywise scoffed, but nevertheless reached around with his freed hand to hug them both at the same time.

Seriously?

As if his unexpected from-under-the-bed entrance wasn't hint enough.

Miss Victoria Denbrough was not the initially-trusting type.

She, apparently, needed to hear a codeword-slash-greeting before believing he _was_ who she had been told about.

Only then she would revert to her much-preferred, less-defensive alter-ego of Vicky.


	17. Epilogue AU: Spelling Blocks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nicknames. They're like flypaper.
> 
> The more you fight them, the more they stick.

Apparently, besides his body of work as a world-renowned architect, Ben Hanscom had taken up carpentry as a side hobby.

Most of the furnishings of the bedroom were store bought. It was only proper, given the girl's parents were of near-celebrity status and well-off enough to afford the best. But anyone looking around said room would also have thought twice of the set of six, four-faced, multi-lettered wooden cubes.

They had a distinctively homemade feel.

Sitting upon an otherwise-lavish carpeted floor, Abigail Uris and Victoria Denbrough took turns testing one another, using the blocks to see how many six-lettered words they might devise.

 _Without_ looking at the dictionary.

"Junior?"

"Summer?"

"Yellow?"

"Writer?"

"Tennis?"

"Museum?"

For over an hour they had bantered back and forth. Hanscom would be happy to hear that his homemade shower gift was being put to such good, diligent use.

Conversely, for a certain entity keeping an eye on the unfolding escapade, It looked on with a peculiar mix of bemusement and playful irritation.

Were you to ask Abby or Vicky if they were alone, that would be met with a very-adamant denial.

The blue eyes watching over them, from under the bed, were very much real.

Adults (that is, save for a select eight or nine walking Earth as of 2016) couldn't see them.

And at the moment, the owner of said eyes couldn't supress a tolerable sigh, to think history was repeating itself for him so uncannily.

When he had gone to sleep thinking nothing of the kind could happen.

_This._

_This is my life right now?_

On the contrary.

Rather than merely "right now", this had been the way of things for It once before.

Watching Abby and Vicky was only the second go-around, that had originally begun with overseeing a select group of once-petty mortals whose immortal ideals had forever earned a place in his thought processes.

Or that was how Stanley Uris would describe It.

As much as the entity wanted to join them now, out in the open, there was the wild card formerly-known-as Audra Phillips to consider. At the moment, she remained downstairs, forgoing a bit of her rising-actress' lifestyle in favor of preparing dinner with her own two hands.

She may not have been able to see the eldritch entity, but he wouldn't put either of the girls in a position to somehow explain the fallout of his supernatural actions.

Even if he could alter their recollections with the wave of a hand, he didn't care to.

It was, and wasn't, fair.

Keeping his considerations on a mortal plane, rather than constantly lording his immortal ways over his hard-won friends, that was part of the appeal of associating with them.

_Just because you could doesn't always mean you should._

...Always.

Another six letter word.

"Puppy?"

_Hm?_

_No, that was only five letters, Vicky._

"Where?"

_Still... only five letters, Abs._

"Oh. There!"

The blocks, standing in a tower as they were, clattered upon being knocked over.

Caught unawares, It snapped out of his musings, corporeal form phasing instantly into place as the bedskirt was lifted.

"Puppy?"

Pennywise frowned, at being apparently-addressed as such, raising a mute eyebrow.

No, Vicky didn't have as broad a grasp of words as Abby did.

She was a year younger.

But she had seemed smart enough when they had initially traded names a few days hence. Why would she be mistaking this form by any other name?

"No, iT's... Penny?"

"Nyh uh. Puppy!"

The clown's striped face fell.

_Great._

_Another nickname._

_Cute, but-_

"Abs..."

Slinking forward, he met them halfway, under the bed's edge.

"You didN't teach her thaT, did you?"

"Daddy did," Abby admitted with a shrug, rocking in place, content as could be. "Why? It's not like it doesn't fit."

Lying prone on the carpet, Pennywise could only fold his arms in front of himself, and glare over the frilled cuffs.

"It doesn'T."

"Does, too."

"Doe- ohh, no, don't you daRe." Pennywise stopped mid-rant, using one pointer finger to keep Vicky's curious nose from finding its way under the bed (soon to be followed by the rest of her; playing around beneath said piece of furniture was a new concept to the toddler). "I'm not explaining to your moTher how you got your dress so wrinKly."

Abby blinked, tilting her head, puzzled by his reasoning. "Uncle Bill won't care."

"Your Aunt Audra doeS."

"Does not."

"Does- no, shoo, go back to your blocKs," the cornered entity spluttered.

No. He would not let himself get roped into such an inane back and forth.

Twice.

In the span of two minutes.

"Puppy, that's not nice."

His shoulders hunched. " _Stop_ calling mE that."

Bad move.

Protesting an unwanted nickname only made it stick more stubbornly.

Like Eddie refusing to be addressed as Eds.

He may not have liked it, but it just made sense.

Abby smirked.

"From now on, _that_ 's his nickname, Vicky," she remarked to her honorary cousin, whose beaming grin was just as wide. "Make sure he knows it."

"Yep. Puppy," Having found a moniker to her liking, little Miss Denbrough took advantage of the stunned silence. "Puppy, Puppy, Puppy."

With complete disregard for her precious dress, Vicky crawled under the bed.

Just to complete the moment, she kissed him on the nose.

Where once he would have found such childish chanting adorable...

How adorably demeaning-

"No! V-vicky, you can'T be- "

Abby followed a second later.

Pennywise scowled, drew further back, practically growling.

How dare they both enter his territory.

"All rigHt, that's _it_."

* * *

Audra Denbrough straightened up, oven-mitted hands holding a casserolle fresh from the oven. The aroma it gave off was pleasant enough, and the crust didn't seem that dark a gold.

Atop the marble counter was a decorative metal rack. She set the pan there to cool.

Taking the thick cotton mitts from her hands, that was when she heard the laughter.

Muffled as it was, coming from the second floor, she was surprised to be hearing it at all. That could mean only one thing.

Out of curiousity, she ventured to the foot of the staircase.

"Girls, is everything okay up there?"

Eventually, Victoria stuttered out an overly-giggly reply:

"Ye-heh-hee-heh-hee-hee- ye-yes, Mommy!"

Audra frowned, almost thought to climb the stairs.

Just what was she missing out on?

"...Are you sure?"

Her only answer was more peals of giggles.


	18. 1989 AU: Different Strokes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sharing (in most forms) is something he has yet to learn how to do, Bevs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After "Renege", but before "Fringe Benefit?"
> 
> Yes, these are very much out of order. Bear with me.

Beverly Marsh had often wondered, if the other kids she had attended her preschool and first grade with, if they had happy home lives. In class, they seemed jovial and agreeable enough, even if they never had cause to talk about it. They traded paper hearts with her on Valentine's Day, candy on Halloween, collaborated on the crafting of homemade Christmas cards.

But all of that did nothing to indicate how they faired outside of school.

She didn't dare ask. She didn't have any friends close enough to.

So, when push came to shove, when she finally decided to make a break and escape Daddy's wrath, it was only natural that she would revisit these unspoken questions with complete confidence.

Even if her protector didn't feel the same way about answering them.

Not at first.

And he seemed even less likely to respond honestly when she was feeling hungry, or sleepy, or uncomfortable at all.

On one such venture, up to the cold, unforgiving surface of town, to gather another round of groceries, Bevs was quick to suggest-slash-ask, "Can we stop for lunch, before going back?"

Pennywise had shot her a funny look, almost like he could sense the underlying plan, but - true to this form and all his others - he obliged her request. As yet, there was nothing she hadn't asked for that he had denied.

That was, until she pried a bit too deep, too fast.

* * *

"How come you live alone, Penny?"

Seated across the picnic table from her, Robert Gray glanced over, through the sides of his eyes. While they were safely unseen in the little, indescribable nexus that rendered them invisible and soundless to everybody else, he always seemed to be on guard. Even now, he gazed around the mostly-vacant park like he expected trouble to find them.

Maybe it was the change in season, more than the change in his now-social calendar.

Or maybe he was still working things out, deciding when it was appropriate to talk, and when it wasn't.

As Bevs was.

Ergo, why she had to ask.

You couldn't get anywhere without asking questions.

At present, Gray raised his eyebrow, and answered this initial one with no small measure of puzzlement.

"But I- don't, Bevs. Not with you, here."

"Before, though." Clarifying, the girl set her half-eaten sandwich aside. It would keep the paper plate from blowing away in the wind. "You lived alone, before?"

"Yes."

"Since... forever? Why?"

An unopened juicebox sat on the table between them.

Wordlessly, he pushed it toward her, and glanced aside.

Bevs kept her hands folded, frowning. "Didn't you have friends?"

His eyes stayed angled away. "Before you, no. Friends... weren't something I considered."

"Not once? Not in... not ever?"

It was funny. For as much as she shared about herself, he didn't always reciprocate. The gidst of it was, no, he wasn't human.

Far from it.

But he seemed to know everything about... everything else in Derry.

Why wouldn't he share more regarding himself?

Did he not want to? Or did he think there was no need?

Bevs waited, hands on the table. The wind kicked up again, ruffling her hair, the hem of her skirt.

Leaves danced along the ground, flying past their ankles.

Gray kept staring off into space, eyes half-closed. Almost as if he were on a different plane, his hair didn't so much as twitch. His clothes didn't flutter.

"How come?"

" _Why_ are you- " Eyes widening, Rob stopped short, almost as though to abort the harsh thought mid-utterance. With a sighing growl, he rolled his shoulder, rubbed absently at his neck, like it had suddenly grown sore. "You didn't have friends, either."

Bevs frowned.

_Way to dodge the question._

She shrugged. "I did, kinda."

He sighed. "Classmates. Who weren't sure about you. Who didn't invite you over. Those aren't friends, Bevs."

_But... they could have been._

_Mommy said it'd be okay, but Daddy didn't let me invite anyone over. And Mommy always did as Daddy said._

_All summer, every summer, they kept me home. Chores. Errands._

_I didn't have a chance to make friends out of my classmates._

_Mommy died._

_Daddy..._ kept _me home for weeks._

_Then, your voice- I started hearing it, coming from the bathroom sink's drain. You asked why I was crying. I told you, and you said to meet you at the canal's edge._

_You seemed upset when I told you how bad things were._

_Then you told me when was the best time to sneak out, where to find the spare key to the front door Daddy always hid._

_I didn't know how you knew._

_But you did._

And the rest, one might say, was in the process of being made history.

Bevs couldn't help a little half smile, recalling the pathology of what had led her up to this point.

Was she one lucky kid or what?

"No, I guess... you were my first real friend."

Gazing at her, blue-green eyes steady, Rob seemed to relax, somewhat. His shoulders drooped, some of the tension having leeched out of his arms. He didn't smile, but the thoughtful frown disappeared from his face.

"And you, mine. Until then, friends didn't- appeal to me."

"Ahp-p- " Bevs stuttered to a stop, rethinking the new word before chancing it again. "A-appeal?"

"I didn't like the idea."

"Why not?"

. . .

No smile, no frown.

_Again with the silence?_

_Don't you think you can tell me?_

Bevs thought to ask that one out loud, but settled for the next best query. Something that wouldn't be so accusatory.

"Didn't you get... lonely?"

"Hmph," Rob scoffed, shrugging that answer off with a smile. "It's easy to be lonely when you've never known what it is to be part of something."

_Aw._

_Like me and not having a friend to visit._

_Before you, I didn't know what that was._

_Then you showed me._

"Did I... hearing me, did that change your mind?"

"You did."

Bevs blinked, watching as his attention shifted once more. He reached for the neglected juicebox. With a gentle crinkle of plastic, he tore the plastic straw from the side, piercing it through the top.

She belatedly thought to accept it when he handed it back.

"How?"

"By just- being you. Isn't that reason enough?"

Idly, she folded the straw's neck over. She wasn't that thirsty, no matter how weighty their conversation had gotten. Or how warmly flushed her face suddenly felt against the autumn chill.

Being told you were important without having to do anything different than you had before?

Yep.

She could not have gotten more lucky, meeting It.

That was worth a grin.

"Yeah. You did, too."

On the contrary, Rob frowned and tilted his head.

"Did, what?"

"Changed my mind. I found out how easy friends are to make, when there's no one in your way."

Bevs took no offense at the next bout of thoughtful silence.

Instead, she took a little sip of apple juice.

Then, on a whim, she offered the box to him.

"And I never did say 'thank you'."

Smirking, the entity understood the gesture for what it was. With a nod, he took the box back, raised it in salute, and sipped briefly.

It was as best a toast they could do, with one beverage.

"Just keep being you, Bevs. That's thanks enough."


	19. 1989 AU: Dare To Compare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beverly’s first ‘morning’ underground.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As requested by justareader1014.
> 
> Takes place right after “Proxy”.

_"Are you... suRe?"_

_"Bevvie! What in God's name are you- doing? Who is- Get away from there!"_

_"No!"_

_"You ungrateful brat! Teach you to run away! Come 'ere!"_

Somehow waking up to more blackness in front of her supposedly-open eyes, Beverly Marsh sprang back to life with a high-pitched yelp. The image of her father's sweat-coated, brutish face vanished.

But so did everything else.

Except that she could feel, smell, or hear. Lost in the dark, she immediately thought back to the apartment. Specifically, the closet in the hallway. The one room of their small, cramped living space she had come to dread the most.

Getting locked up there was usually the culmination of some terrible beating, verbal, followed all too closely by the physical. Sometimes with a belt. Sometimes it was the back of Alvin Marsh's gnarled hand. However it went, the closet was where he would toss her, lock, and prop a chair against its handle.

Like a proper little homemade jail cell.

Once the hurting stopped, it wasn't so bad. Eventually, Beverly learned that pleading to be let out didn't get her anywhere. Dejectedly, she would sit down and wait, pressed back against the musty, moth-eaten coats. There was nothing to eat or drink, nothing to doctor her cuts or bruises will.

Eventually, when she was let out, there would be no apologies or nurturing moments. Typically, the man posing as her father dragged her to the kitchen for a small meal, before sending her to bed.

Oh, and by the way, it was usually on a school night.

_Night._

_Is that what this is? Why I can't see?_

_No, I- this isn't nighttime._

_This is... where he brought me?_

_He told me to close my eyes._

_I did._

_Must have fallen asleep. Didn't know I was_ that _tired._

_And this is where he left me?_

_Another closet?!_

Scrambling backwards, Beverly felt her hands and knees slipping on - what felt like - piles of blankets. Folds upon folds of them. She didn't know if it was right to backpedal, but forward was just as dark as any other direction around her.

And going back typically meant you were more likely to dodge an incoming punch. These were things her five-year-old self had figured out right quick, once they became a weekly occurence.

But no. That was her old life.

However, at the moment, her new one was looking very, _very_ similar.

Even if she couldn't see much of it right now.

Eventually, scrambling far enough, she found a wall. While familiar, she couldn't help a desperate-sounding whine. Hands pawing blindly, she followed its distance, first as far right as it would go. When she found a corner, she changed direction.

By the time she found the next corner, she was a gasping, sobbing mess. She didn't think to call for help. There wasn't anyone to call for. Tears blurring her eyes, leaving her even more blind than before, she closed her eyes and covered her face.

Daddy had found her, again.

"N-no! Not a-another one! No!"

"BeverLy?"

That was all the warning she got.

Then something settled on her shoulder.

Impulsively, instinctively, she jerked away from it. "Ahh!" That turned out to be the wrong move, as another something, strong and warm and silky-smooth-feeling, snaked around her, and pulled her thrashing form from the corner. "No! N-no, let go!"

"Shhh, shh. Hey, re-rElax. It's juSt me."

Eyes still closed, Beverly didn't think to reply. She only grunted and struggled all the more fiercely, kicking, clawing with her hands. Whatever, whoever it was, they had a strong grip. One her rational brain said she had no chance of escaping.

But it also said she should try with everything she had.

_Who's 'me'?_

_No. You weren't real. None of it was._

_Daddy found me again!_

"Mmph, n-no! No! Y-you're- "

"Shhhh, theRe, there..."

That went on for a time. Her flustered, protesting cries, versus her unknown captor's shushing, soothing words. She twisted and bucked, trying to get away, to climb out over or out from under the arms holding her. But after a while, she started to tire.

Gradually, the darkness around seemed to ease.

It wasn't a great source of light. Wherever it came from, Beverly didn't care. Through her drying tears and strings of bedraggled hair, she could just make out the contours of the room.

Vaguely. It was less of a room and more of a narrow compartment, lined from wall to wall with blankets and pillows.

But most importantly, she could see who was there with her.

"There. That beTter?"

_No._

_Well, maybe._

_No! You went away!_

Eventually, her stuttering mouth let her say as much.

"Penny, y-you- you left."

His smile dropped, but only into a neutral line. "Only foR a little while."

Breathing hard, Beverly could only shake her head in disbelief. No confused face of his was going to change her mind on this.

A little while, a long time - that didn't matter.

She grabbed the edge of his collar with both hands, pulling herself up.

There wasn't far to go. He was already crouched down beside her.

"You left."

Pennywise blinked at her, slowly and deliberately, head tilting to one side.

"I said I wouLd have to, Bevs. Don't you reMember?"

The nickname failed to endear her that time. "No. You told me to close my eyes. I did. Neh-next thing I knew, I was- " Huffing, she yanked herself upward, face held right next to his. "You _left_."

Something odd came of that.

Beverly almost let go, almost stepped back. This close, it was impossible to not see how his eyes - always a bit off to begin with- centered on her. And even more strangely, they morphed. The colored parts went lighter. The round pupils went thinner.

Just briefly.

Then, like it was just a mistimed trick, they turned blue and human-looking again.

Only afterward did Pennywise frown and raise an eyebrow.

Sternly, almost.

The same way Daddy did, when he was just starting to get annoyed.

"It was onLy for a little while."

But where Alvin would have left it at that, her rescuer only pulled her in for another hug. One hand stroked her hair, then rubbed her back.

Beverly snuffled, clinging against him, despite her leftover irritation. She nuzzled close against his ruffled chest, hearing that strange little humming noise he always seemed to make around her.

Was it odd to find it... relaxing to listen to?

She did in that moment, until his voice rumbled again and drowned it out.

"Poor thing. Did you- did you thiNk I was gone, for good?"

_Worse._

"I thought you we-weren't real," Beverly admitted, in a small, meek tone. "That I- I just dreamed everything."

"Oh?"

She sniffed and nodded, wiping her face.

Wiping what away, probably tears. Frustration.

The fear she had felt was certainly real. Being scared that her escape from the apartment had not been an escape at all.

Without being told as much, Pennywise seemed to put the picture together for himself. The backrubs stopped, but only so he could hold her even closer. Beverly felt his chin perch itself atop her head.

"It's no dream, dearesT one."

_"Dearest one"?_

_What does that mean?_

Beverly blinked and ducked her head, eyes darting. The term felt somehow foreign, but familiar.

Was it another nickname? Like Bevs?

"It wasn't? A dream?"

"No. I saiD you could sTay. I meant it."

_Just don't go away again._

_Please._

_I'll stay in the dark as long as you want. Just don't go._

"I can?"

"Mmm-hm."

"Forever? And ever?"

At that, he gave a little laugh. Loud enough to make Beverly jump, but she soon giggled again, feeling something gentle and wet brush the curve of her forehead.

She could imagine it easily enough. That wasn't a kiss, but It's own kind of caress.

"YesSs, forever and eVer."


	20. 1989 AU: Disturbing The Peace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bevs runs into an old ‘friend’.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So far, so out of order.
> 
> I’ll list them chronologically later, promise.

Bevs had always thought she was, besides everything else, a good girl. She wasn't a child who routinely acted up, seeking attention at all costs, or disobeying her elders, for no other reason than just to have something to go against. For as long as she had remembered, she had simply been this way.

Acting up around Daddy? Never.

Whining to Mommy for attention? Nope.

No reason to change that.

Or was there?

* * *

"Wait here."

There was a wooden bench just outside the convenience store, looking across the two-laned street, out onto the town square. Trotting to a stop, Bevs didn't think to look over that way, to see how busy it was or wasn't with townsfolk. She was too busy gazing through the large-paned window.

Gently, she laid her mittened hands against it.

Beyond the shelves, there was a calendar. It hung on the wall beside a clock, behind the pair of registers at the front counter.

Her breath fogged the glass as she squinted and read the month across the top.

October.

_So, it's been almost a month._

_What day is it, though?_

_...What day_ was _it, that I ran away on?_

"They won't see me, Penny."

"Not usually, no," Robert Gray retorted, eyes shifting, cagey and on guard as ever. Briefly, he followed the girl's eyeline into the store, frowned at something only he (apparently) could see, then glanced back down at her. "And... if they do, you know what you do?"

_That's a new one._

_What's he getting at?_

"No...?"

It was gray and windy today, or the walk along the street made it seem that way. The tail end of her green scarf had come loose, hanging against her back. Noticing this, Rob grabbed the fringed tail and weaved it back over the girl's shoulder, around her neck, covering her face more effectively.

"Don't talk to them."

"Why?"

"They're strangers. You shouldn't talk to strangers."

Over the scarf's edge, Bevs' vibrant blue eyes frowned up at him. Her reflection in the window did the same.

Her classmates at school, they had been strangers before the teacher went around, having everyone introduce themselves.

What made being out in public different?

"...Why?"

Rob stopped short of pushing the door open, turning back with one of those sly, slow-growing smiles he seemed to relish.

Funny.

For as much as she was bundled up, he wasn't. The gray, red-laced leather jacket and pants never seemed to change. He never wore a hat or gloves.

His nose, ears, and cheeks weren't even red from the cold.

All trussed up in her green scarf, knit cap, and poofy black jacket (the latest outfit long-term-borrowed from a neighborhood clothesline), Bevs felt something akin to envy. Or jealously. Or both.

"It's easier if you don't."

The five-year-old let her hands slide off the window, puzzling over his meaning.

_Easier._

_For who?_

She was still thinking about it as one of his hands reached up and patted the top of her head, in parting.

"Wait, I'll be back soon enough."

She glanced up as the front door's bell tinged.

Blinking, she watched it swing shut.

But in looking through the window again, there was no Gray to be seen.

And suddenly, standing there all alone on the sidewalk, the bustling street at her back seemed a lot louder. Suddenly, the wind felt a lot stronger and gustier. Bevs ducked behind the weave of her scarf, blinking as her eyes watered involuntarily. Despite how warmly she was dressed, this felt like a true, unexpected exposure of some kind.

There wasn't much foot traffic, going to and fro along the storefronts. But by the third person who passed her by, Bevs retreated to huddle at the back of the bench. The temptation to wait and sit anywhere else didn't appeal. Pressing her back to it, keeping something between herself and the cars on the street felt like the smart thing to do.

She hugged herself against the wind, watched the convenience store, and waited.

_He's never gone somewhere without you before._

_Silly, he does it all the time._

_Sure, down underground._

_Just not... in public like this._

_Why? What's different about this time?_

_It looked like he went inside._

_But he didn't. I didn't see him._

_Where else could he have gone?_

_Oh, anywhere. I just didn't see._

_He'll be back soon enough._

After a few minutes, though, she started to doubt her own conclusion. It didn't matter if the front doorstep of the oft-raided convenience store felt like familiar territory.

People had started looking her way. Their strides would slow, evidently curious at the sight of her. Their eyebrows would go up. Or their mouths would frown.

She noticed one couple, the lady of the pair whispering to her partner. Belatedly, she heard the tail end of one sentence:

"...ld say something?"

Bevs tilted her head and blinked, watching mutely as they kept walking, then disappeared around a corner.

Uneasy, she shifted her weight to one leg, pressing back against the bench.

Wherever Rob was, he would do well to hurry up.

The first person to acknowledge her, face to face, was equal parts startling and unwelcome.

And worst of all, he knew exactly who she was. Her disguise wasn't that foolproof.

"Beverly? Beverly Marsh?"

Bevs jumped not at the voice, but where it came from- right over her shoulder.

Eyes widening, she glanced up.

Leaning across the bench's backrest, seven-year-old Henry Bowers leered down at her, eyes glinting maliciously. A third grader, she remembered after the fact, who liked to play rough and ignore the assignments the teachers tried to give him.

Or so the rumor grapevine at Derry Elementary had once whispered.

What seemed like a lifetime ago.

"Hey! Thought that was you."

Face burning, she averted her eyes, shoulders hunching up. The scarf was still up, pulled over her nose. There was no way he could recognize her, that fast.

No way.

"Hey."

Roughly, without ceremony, he reached over, snagging her cap in one tight hand. She felt locks of her hair tug against her scalp, snagged between the folds by his fingers.

Bevs stifled a whimper, trying to pull away. Any lower, and she would be sitting on the sidewalk, practically reduced to crawling free.

"Quit being shy. I know that's you."

_Talk to him? Talk yourself out of this?_

_You know his name. Henry's not a stranger._

_But he's not... very friendly, either._

"L-leave me alone."

"Why?" Henry demanded, brusque as she remembered. In the same breath, he pulled the cap from her head. "No one's seen much of you lately."

At that, Bevs did yelp as her hair was yanked. Twisting away, she sidestepped, back toward the store, glaring up at him.

Henry's devilish, predatory leer didn't diminish. Tossing the hat aside, he scrambled off the end of the bench. Standing up to his full height, his target noted with dismay how the boy already seemed about two inches taller than the last time she had seen him.

"They said you ran away."

"Go _away_ , Henry. I mean it."

"Do you?"

"Yeah."

_Just because I know you doesn't mean I'm safe._

"Oh, yeah?" Advancing with three unflinching steps, Bowers backed her up against the window. Roughly, he pushed her up against the glass, one hand splayed flat on her chest. "Who's gonna _make_ me?"

Biting her lip, Bevs almost cowered and quailed.

People began to slow and look over. Their burgeoning quarrel was already drawing more attention than she herself had.

_Who's gonna make you?_

Shoving nerves aside, Bevs scowled and grabbed at his arm. It didn't matter who was watching. This was alarming, yes, but was did it mean she had to be afraid, just because she was unsure of how to handle it?

No.

She wasn't helpless, not anymore.

"I am!"

_You're nothing, compared to Daddy._

Henry's squinting green eyes widened. In his brief surprise, she managed to pry his hand off, to shove his arm back toward him. It took both her hands to fight (burly built, he was physically stronger), but she managed.

"You little- hey, quit that!"

Seething, she leaned against him, tried to push him back. " _You_ quit it! Leave me alone!"

"You bitch, I'll say whether or not I'm done with you!"

The glass gave an ominous _thump_ as he shoved her against it again.

Leaning back, Bevs threw her weight forward again, pushing him back, hard. "I say you are!"

"No, I'm- not!"

"Yes, you _are_. Go away!"

Their fellow pedestrians didn't think to step in and break up their huffing, puffing struggle.

Somewhere to her left, Bevs heard an unfamiliar, masculine voice boom out:

"What's thi- Hey! Cut that out! What- one side, people. Police."

Then she saw the crowd part.

A hand seized her shoulder. The other grabbed Bowers.

"You two, let- hey, break it up. That's enough. Cal-calm down!"

"Ragh!" Lunging forward, Bevs took a parting swipe at Henry's face, despite knowing her nails were hidden behind mittens.

He still jerked his head back, to keep his eyes from being clawed out.

"Easy, hey."

The hand on her shoulder was soon joined by another, on her opposite arm. Hard, rough hands.

She balked.

_Like Daddy's hands-_

"Relax, kiddo. You're- "

"Bev- Beverly?"

Breathing in, struggle forgotten, her head whipped around.

 _That_ voice, she recognized.

And it didn't come from inside the store, as she had thought it would. Instead, from the opposite side of the half-formed crowd, he threaded his way onto the scene.

The girl hesitated, only a split second, before lunging - with every bit of frenzied energy she had left - in that direction. Stumbling, she just managed to get free of the officer's slackened grip. The scarf came loose in the process.

Robert Gray barely stooped down in time to keep her from crashing facefirst into his knees.

"Hey, s-slow down. It's okay."

Bevs clung onto one of his arms with both of her own, panting, burying her face into his jacket. Only then did she notice how her eyes were leaking, hot tears smearing on her chilled face. She flinched at the arm settling across her shoulders, the hand stroking her trembling back.

_Safe. You said you'd keep me safe. You said-_

"Hey, hey, shh. It's all right."

_No, no, it's not. You said-_

"Who- who are you?" she heard her former-accoster cough out. "You're not- "

" _Henry_."

Thankfully, the city officer to interrupt their erstwhile meeting knew what it was to take charge of a situation, with just the right word. Immediately, the seven-year-old quieted.

Glancing that way, Gray seemed to figure things out, fast.

Still weeping silently, Bevs' covered fingers slipped as, without warning, her protector stood up. Following the curve of his sleeve, she ended up grabbing his hand with both of her own.

_Don't- don't-_

Don't what?

She wasn't initially sure. Everything had happened so fast.

In the meantime, she only thought to duck around his hip.

Not to hide, but watch.

He could just teleport away if he wanted. She couldn't. And he knew that.

Like it or not, that was where they were now.

The crowd on the sidewalk still gawked, murmuring among themselves.

Only Henry and the officer stood, front and center, before them, taking in the scene with two easy-to-read reactions.

Bewilderment and sullen suspicion.

"Dad, that's not- " Henry stopped short, cringing like a kicked dog as Oscar Bowers shot him a dirty look.

A few of the pedestrians shied away as well, departing without a backwards look. No mere curiosity was worth facing his low-key wrath, seemingly.

"I'll ask you _later_ , boy," the officer growled. And by the way he said _ask_ Bevs couldn't help being reminded of the tone Alvin used to take, when talking ceased to be important, and beatings were the only recourse.

One hand on his belt, the uniformed man turned back and stepped closer.

"Sir, your identification, please."

Brows lowering, Rob scoffed. "Is that really necessary, Officer? Just a couple'a kids disagreeing."

"That's not her Dad, Pa," Henry blurted out, seemingly unable to help keeping that information to himself.

He cowered again as his father reached over, roughly grabbed the boy by the arm, and yanked him to his side.

"I can see that for myself, you halfwit. Now you _pipe_ down until I say speak."

Snorting softly, Rob fished inside the flap of his jacket with his free hand. Watching him comply, seemingly without a problem, Bevs fidgeted nervously. She managed to thread her fingers between his, as much as the cotton material would allow.

_What are you doing?_

"It's expired, but the picture's flattering, yeah?"

Glancing up, Bowers didn't so much as twitch toward donning a smile. Wordlessly, he accepted the laminated card, glancing over its information. His other hand stayed on his black leather belt, forward of the pistol holster.

"Robert Gray? Not... Robert Marsh?"

"Brother-in-law," Rob remarked, flatly, but still casually enough for anyone not knowing better wouldn't have reason to disbelieve him. "His wife, Elfrida? She's still got a few cousins around."

"Elfrida, yes..." Bowers turned the name over his head, or appeared to. He glanced up, paused in thought, then handed the license back. "I think I may've heard that before." Raising an eyebrow, he spared Bevs a cursory look. "But this is- their daughter, Beverly? She went missing four weeks ago."

"Not to me," Rob shrugged with his free shoulder. "I was in town, surprise visit."

"Hm... Sweetie, you know this man?"

Bevs swallowed and nodded, declining again the sudden urge to hide. Whatever passed for a gentle voice with Butch Bowers still rubbed like pebbled gravel on bare skin.

"Can you tell me how?"

"She doesn't have to- "

"He's my Uncle Rob," the five-year-old interrupted, despite whatever startled look or lecture it might earn her. "Daddy said I could stay with him for a while."

_And you have no way of knowing he didn't. So, go away._

Bowers' scowl deepened, but he straightened up.

"Then... did you know- "

"Officer," Rob took his turn to cut someone off. "Please. We haven't talked about _that_."

Bevs dared a nervous peek up at him.

_No, we did._

_You said he won't bother me again._

"That's not her Dad, though," Henry insisted, out of nowhere as an anxious hush had fallen on the sidewalk. "Pa, you can't just- "

"Like _you_ can't just go after anyone you want, when I'm not _looking_ ," Bowers growled. With a jangle of keys, he yanked the third-grader over. "Now say you're sorry."

"Pa- "

"Do it."

"...Sorry, Beverly."

"Just l-leave me alone," Bevs sniffled, wiping her face. Her stringy red hair still dangled in front of her eyes.

_Forget about me, like everyone else._

_We're all better off that way._

So long as Rob stayed on her side.

"Or else you'll have _me_ to answer to," her friend half-growled, eyes virtually aglow already. "Remember that next time you think to bother her."

The elder Bowers' expression abruptly scrunched up. "Hey, that's not for you to- "

Without blinking, Rob intercepted the shorter man before he could take one outraged step.

"Officer, I'm willing to put today _behind_ us, if you are. And so long as your son keeps to himself, I'll forget it ever happened. Beverly's staying with me, and if that changes, I'll be sure to inform you. And if there's anything you think... _amiss_ about it, you best check your facts before you go filing papers of any kind. Do that, and I'll have the best firm in the northeast primed to sue you and your department from here right on down to Boston. Do you understand?"

Bevs dared a timid glance up through her wet eyelashes.

Officer Bowers didn't gape. This wasn't being talked over by someone who had violated the law, or was smarting off just for thumb-the-nose's-sake.

To him, all Butch seemed to see was an outraged father-figure, drawing his proverbial line in the sand. And promising retaliation in no uncertain terms to anyone who dared cross it.

Instead, the cop seemed to revert back to his typical grumpy silence. With a barely perceptible nod, he stood back.

"I do. And I'm- sorry for the trouble. You both... have a nice day."

Bevs looked back down, and didn't bother to glance up again. She didn't need to see Henry's reaction for herself.

Insofar as she was concerned, he was better off forgotten.

As she was to him.

Instead, the girl let herself be led away. With every step, the tension seemed to bleed away, more and more. They passed several storefronts and one crosswalk before stopping, at the far corner of town square. Then she finally looked up.

Raising an eyebrow, Rob glanced at her, then at their still-interlaced fingers. Without either of them saying as much, the importance of staying together seemed to solidify with that gesture.

Bevs sniffed, and finally thought to let go. Her palm was coated with sweat. Her scarf's tail continued to flap listlessly in the wind.

Noticing the state of it, Gray wordlessly grabbed the green cloth, slowly tucking it back into place around her neck once more.

"...Don't leave me again."

His hands stilled, lingering on her shoulders. Sheepishly almost, he looked away.

Had that been a mistake? Or his plan all along?

Bevs couldn't be sure.

He wasn't admitting anything, and his expression gave nothing away.

But he sounded contrite enough as he hung his head and muttered, in a small, soft voice, "I won't."

_You're sorry. I can tell._

_Just... don't do it again._

Despite her newfound woes and concerns, lamenting how they would haunt her for days to come, Bevs forced a smile. It was comforting enough to be back in his protective shadow.

"What were you even doing?"

At that, he smirked, reaching for the other inner pocket of his jacket.

Giving in to her burgeoning curiosity, Bevs blinked, belatedly thinking to hold her hand out.

Without being told or asked to, somehow, it felt like the thing to do.

Her action was rewarded. A pair of necklaces, one after another, were placed in her mittened palm. To the naked eye, they were nothing fancy. But to her knowing gaze, they were instantly priceless.

One of them - with the longer chain - sported a stainless steel feather charm.

_From... Mommy's charm bracelet?_

_It... always was my favorite._

_I thought it was gone._

The shorter one was adorned with a key- _the_ key, to her old apartment on Main Street.

_The spare one you told me Daddy kept in his toolbox._

Rob's smirk had turned into a full-fledged grin.

And he winked.

"Happy birthday, Bevs."

Impulsively, she closed her hand around them, holding the prizes to her chest with both hands. Gingerly, she reopened her mittens for a closer look.

Both key and charm glinted in what low afternoon light there was.

They weren't imaginary.

What to feel first?

Astonishment or incredulity?

She couldn't decide between the two.

_He brought me back to Derry, for this?_

She had thought they were here for another scavenger hunt.

Had that been the plan all along?

He might have botched the presentation (intentionally or no), but he didn't have to bring her back to the town's surface, to say a kind of goodbye, in effect. He could have just as easily have brought the necklaces to her, down in the cistern, and it wouldn't have meant as much.

In that instant, she was decided. She wasn't ever going to lose track of these new valuables.

But her most literal of senses wouldn't let one thing just slide:

"Penny... my birthday's in February."

He scoffed, not unaffectionately, pulling her into a one-armed hug.

Her hands were full. She couldn't return it.

"Yes, it uSed to be."

Bevs giggled, muffled though it was between her scarf and his jacket, shaking her head at his inane reasoning.

But she couldn't fight the grin that creased her bundled-up face.

_Yeah... yeah, it did._


	21. 1989 AU: Hindsight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bevs makes a detour.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part filler, part fluff. Takes place between "No Love Lost" and "Different Strokes".
> 
> Unbetaed.

"Please?"

Main Street.

It froze. He blinked up at the street sign in disbelief, only just realizing that's where they had walked.

Funny. This was the last place It would have thought Bevs would ever want to see again.

And, just as suddenly, he knew exactly what apartment building they were standing at the foot of. Far from being intimidated by the sight of it, let alone the idea of revisiting it, Bevs was eagerly tugging at his hand with both of her own.

That is, Robert Gray's hand.

Who looked decidedly unenthused with her sudden stroke of destination, much less inspiration.

After a time, she gave up. Huffing irritably, the girl sidestepped around him. She pressed her palms against the small of his back, trying to drive him forward.

The disguised entity merely craned his neck around and raised an eyebrow at her antics. Otherwise, he stayed rooted to the spot, as if his boots were now made of lead, as immovable as a boulder. He didn't need to lean either way, or even brace a leg to keep from being shoved forward.

He would move when he was ready.

Which wasn't yet.

"Why here, Bevs? I thought you never meant to come back."

_It was a mistake, telling her father is gone._

_As in, really,_ really _gone._

_Now she's, what? Homesick?_

_Is she?_

_She hasn't... seemed so be._

_Did I- did I make a mistake somewhere?_

Pondering this, It felt some instant disquietude at the notion, casting a new blanch on his thoughts. A few weeks of having this girl in his care, and he was already hopelessly attached, to think there was no where better she could be. And he had thought the feeling was mutual, and would remain so for a long time to come.

But no.

Had she tired of their arrangement?

"Will you- just- ugh!"

Caught up in his musings as he abruptly was (again), It forgot to keep the parking brake on.

At exactly the wrong moment, Bevs gave another charging, all-in shove, and that was just what it took.

"Agh-ow!"

"Oof!"

It was practically comical, where they ended up.

He landed spread-eagled on the hard, unforgiving ground, with his attacker - unable to dodge aside - sprawled upon his back.

Blinking gravel out of his eyes, Gray spluttered, winced, and only thought to sit up as far as his elbows would let him. Any further than that wasn't possible just yet.

"Honestly?! Bevs!"

"Ohh..." Overcoming her flustered shock, Bevs just laughed, climbed forward, and thumped his shoulder with her hand. "Quit being a slowpoke and come _on_. There's something I want to get."

He snorted. "Is there?"

"Yeah! Daddy would have caught me, if we tried sooner, but now that he's not there- "

"The apartment was cleaned out," Rob explained, flatly, coughing to clear his throat. Somewhat, somewhat cleaned out, both of those things. "Ahem. There's nothing left to get."

Glancing back at her, he reneged on that comment, instantly. How the girl's once-lively expression fell quickly had him soft-pedalling his excuse into a kinder alternative theory.

"I mean... there may _not_ be. These apartments, some are rented for so long, the landlord doesn't think to check them out even after the people have up and left, without notice."

"And mine could have been one of those," the five-year-old nodded. "Please, Penny? It'll only take a minute."

He thought to sigh, melodramatically (as that was his favorite flavor of human sigh), but the entity settled for his next best reaction. One that wouldn't seem so discouraging.

With a thumb, he gestured sideways, over his back.

"You need to climb off first."

Bad move.

Giggling, Bevs took the exact opposite direction from that.

Instantly, her arms latched around his neck.

"Nyh uh!"

* * *

_Piggybacking a child up an iron staircase._

_...Yes._

_Check that one off the list as "never do again"._

Not that It kept a list of these things.

Bevs gave a final, satisfied giggle as she slid off, landed on her feet, then raced down the hallway.

Shaking his head, trying to ignore the new aches his human form now claimed to be sporting, It followed. As much as he thought he knew just what to expect to find here, maybe the child had a point.

What would be the harm in letting her poke around?

She certainly hadn't been able to before.

"Penny, it's locked."

He walked up to find her a few doors down from the stairs. Her hands were twisting ineffectively at the bronze doorknob.

_Hm. Determined, are we?_

_Maybe we could... stall just a moment._

"Which is why... I keep this."

Turning her head, Bevs' eyes went wide at the sight of the lockpicking kit.

Without returning her confused look, Rob knelt down. Eyes narrowed, he took a moment to study the keyhole, then selected a pick and torsion wrench from the leather pouch.

"You... you didn't need those before."

_No. I could just grab the knob and it would turn._

_But this gives you more time to reconsider._

_And me to... anticipate._

The lock gave a little metallic click as the tips of the tools were inserted, seeking the inner components. Now to work through the sequence.

He frowned, concentrating.

Or trying his best to.

_Last time I was here... Seems like long ago already._

"Oh? When was that?"

Even if he knew exactly, it was only human to ask.

"Before. That time you let me out of the closet." Gray paused, recalling said dreadful instance, how she had practically fallen out, sobbing, into his arms. It had been around a week before Bevs had thought to flee, to dare asking him to take her in.

Now, she was looking at him with the same mild worry she had shown that day.

"You just opened it."

"Well, how do you think I got in? Your Daddy was asleep."

"Magic. Like everything else." Lightly, she rapped on the door with her fingers. "Can't you just- "

He resumed picking, holding off a very-human urge to sigh.

"I can. You can't, Bevs."

She blinked and hushed, waiting with her hands on the door.

Anxiously, almost.

Then he couldn't stall any longer.

Finally, the last tumbler gave a click, and the lock rotated obediently. Smirking in mock-triumph, Rob twisted the doorknob, pushed it open.

"Take what you need. We can't stay long."

No, they couldn't.

Outside, an autumn storm was bearing down on the town. He could feel it in the air. The breeze was picking up, ominously.

He could whisk back to the cistern as he pleased. Bevs couldn't.

Walking her back was as irritatingly-limiting as it was rewarding.

As was breaking into her old abode, it seemed.

Irritating in that the dingy collection of rooms still reeked prominently of Alvin. Rob just managed not to curl his lips in disgust, thinking not-so-kind thoughts of the man.

His nose wrinkled at the sour stench of the carpet, eyes narrowing at the sight of yellowing, cigarette-smoke-stained walls. While a sewer-dwelling being such as himself had no right to find these mild unpleasantries violating, the thought that _this_ was where Beverly Marsh had lived-slash-suffered the first five years of her life, it made his insides burn.

Along with all the other incorporeal portions that constituted himself.

No, they wouldn't stay long.

Whatever Bevs sought here, she had best find it quick.

Said girl scampered ahead, down the central hallway.

Utterly unafraid. For the first time since before her mother passed away.

"Wow! A lot of things, they're- they're just gone."

"I thought they would be," Rob peered around a corner, into the space that had posed as a 'living room' area. There were visible, inverted shadows against the walls, where tables and bookcases were once pressed. The impressions in the carpet, where chairs' feet had stood, were plain to see. "Your Daddy didn't... need his things. So other people came and took them."

To charities. To secondhand stores.

To other apartments, even.

Still, Bevs did her best to search around. There were a couple of naked bookshelves, a few big cardboard boxes whose tops had been left open.

Her old bedroom, the furniture was gone. Her dresser had been wheeled out, as were the clothes inside it. The blinds were drawn over the window, hiding the vacant space from the world as effectively as Bevs now hid away in the cistern.

The kitchen was picked clean, even if the cabinets were left. No useful culinary instruments or cans of food to be collected.

Watching her paw through the remnants, poke through empty drawers, trotting from room to room, Rob waited.

Meanwhile, he kept one ear (and eye) on the open door behind them.

Lest any curious wanderers peek in.

Even if there was nothing for them to see, sightless and soundless though they were, that would be one less hassle avoided.

After a few minutes of rummaging, Bevs gave a little discontented groan. She folded an opened box closed and stood up. Dejectedly, she trundled back to the living room.

"It's not here."

Ears pricked up, Rob paused before responding.

No, that wasn't a footstep on the landing.

"What isn't?"

Bevs' face was the definition of morose. She scuffed a toe along the floor, aimlessly tracing a pattern against the wall with her fingertip. A squiggly trail was left in the dust.

"Mommy's charm bracelet."

"She had one?"

"Mm-hmm. Since she was little like me, she collected charms. I wanted one, too. But..." Distractedly, Bevs twirled a lock of scarlet hair around her finger, shyly even, as she recounted the story. Maybe it took her mind off of being so sad, thinking of her better parent. "She said I could have a charm from her's, when I got a bracelet. Then I'd start collecting my own."

"Oh..." Rob couldn't help a slight fidgeting of his hands, brushing their nails together. "Did she ever...?"

_Stupid._

_Of course Elfrida didn't._

_Otherwise, Bevs wouldn't have drug you here looking for the thing._

"No."

"Because you never got the bracelet."

"Daddy might have, my next birthday," Bevs explained. Her gaze drifted away, her expression going even more distant to match. "But now... I don't care if he would, or wouldn't've."

Rob nodded. "Because Mommy's is gone."

_And don't lie. You cared._

_He didn't care that you cared._

_...I won't do the same._

Finally, the girl stepped back to his side, glancing up at her chaperone.

As if only know it felt safe enough for her to do so.

"I'm sorry, Penny. We came here for nothing."

He smiled, patting her shoulder. He felt a little foolish for his slight rash of overreacting, but as yet, this foray had been of no real consequence.

And he certainly wasn't going to blow up on her over it.

"No, that's something, Bevs. Just not the... something I thought."

_Thankfully._

"Why? What did you think?"

He shrugged, busying himself instead with adjusting the cap on her head. "C'mon, there's only so much light left. We gotta get back before the weather stops us."

"The key's gone, too," she remarked, offhandedly almost, as they made their way back out onto the landing.

Gently, Rob closed the door behind them.

For what he hoped would be the last time they would find reason to come back here.

He didn't bother to lock it back up. A few boxes of books and trinkets wouldn't be worth that minor effort.

_A key._

" _The_ key?"

_That I knew Alvin had a spare of._

Bevs pulled her mittens back on. "Yeah. I stuck it in one of Daddy's boots, after I unlocked the door, before I... ran to find you." She paused, then finished zipping her jacket back up. "Bet he stubbed his toe on it."

At that, Rob couldn't help a little disbelieving chuckle.

It was a contented sound Bevs mirrored, smiling, as he turned back, stooped down and kissed her forehead.

_Oh, you._


	22. 1989 AU: To The Bone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Winter is- *brick*
> 
> We _know_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If this feels a little disjointed from the rest, that’s because it is. Three more missing entries, as of yet.
> 
> We’re starting to get into the darker side of things, finally.

Underground, in the dark, wet cistern, it got cold fast.

And worse, even as the temperatures above ground rose and fell, teasing their way through autumn leading into wintertime, the same didn't apply down below, in their world of hard-packed dirt and concrete tunnels. It _stayed_ cold.

To It's complete unsurprise. This was far from the first time he had weathered a Derry winter.

Easily, too. His own form wasn't subject to things like hypothermia and frostbite. It never had been.

But his adopted company very much was, no matter what supernatural talents she now possessed.

Bevs couldn't stay there.

Not any more.

Talking the sense of such a decision into her was more difficult than staying wrapped around her, night after night, making an insulating blanket of himself.

But their treks to town were only getting more infrequent, and more trying when they did attempt them. Bevs' exterior was very much still akin to a mortal's.

She couldn't teleport as he could.

And her footwear had nowhere to dry warmly, even when it wasn't in use.

Decided, he figured out the sooner things were said, the better.

* * *

Closing the wagon's stage wall cut out the worst of the frigid, damp air.

For It, the act was akin to closing a bedroom door, to ensure a private conversation would remain private.

For a moment, he felt like he was trying to hide from the very fabric of reality.

Hide Bevs, if not himself.

And with the scornful expression she was now aiming his way, huddled in a corner, It supposed he was owed a dirty look, minimum.

For being so dense as to think adopting a human from her broken home wouldn't mean replacing those family problems with a whole host of new ones.

Her mindscape reflected as much, a jagged, spiky mess of emotions containing no small measure of frustration and anger.

Daring to get close, he used a hand to pry her out of the corner.

With the other, he draped a fresh blanket around her shoulders.

Compliments of the Salvation Army.

Her glare lessened a bit, but with her first words, It knew there was no putting it off any longer.

"You haVe to go bacK, Bevs."

"Back?" she repeated, aghast. "Y-you don't mean- "

"Back, aboVe ground," he rephrased, sitting down with a _thump_ of finality.

Bevs instantly scooted closer, letting herself into the cage made of arms and legs. Her face nudged its way under the collar's edge, per usual.

Confining herself, yes.

But at least it was a little warmer there.

Her host pulled the blanket flush over her far shoulder, making sure it was wrapped snugly around her, before repositioning his arm in a half-hug. His knee brushed her elbow, shin resting against her hip.

"It's not- that bad today."

It frowned, unseen as most of his doubts were by her, but they were felt by his charge nonetheless. Just as he could feel the shivers racing through her, mind and body.

"Not that bad" - when her lips were half blue? Her fingers and toes were starting to darken?

When she had to brush frost off her eyelashes every morning?

He closed his own eyes. A faint cloud of exhaled vapor steamed from his nose.

"Bevs, this isn'T half as bad as it wiLl get, later in the seAson. You can't staY."

She fidgeted against his hold, but he didn't need to see her face to know the new look of determination, glaring out from under the folds of his suit.

"Then- you stay with me."

He scoffed, half-smiling in the near-dark.

_Didn't say I wouldn't._

* * *

29 Neibolt Street.

Derry's very own haunted house.

Or, it would have been.

It didn't so much as haunt the place as frequent it from time to time.

Like the homeless and the drug addicts for whom it was a refuge. Usually, the only good they did was in providing It with an easily-accessible snack.

Despite his relatively-newfound sense of compassion, the entity's generousity didn't yet extend to the likes of them.

Did we say "yet"? Nor would it.

Most of the latest group of aimless vagrants, he scared those away.

Simple. All it took was a few slamming doors in the night, a raspy-sounding growl here and there.

In one instance, a terrifying run-in with a blood-soaked, half-decayed Robert Gray. Who spoke in tongues and whose empty eye sockets bled white, pussy tears.

That junkie would swear for the rest of his days that the walking dead were not a mere figment of imagination.

The most stubborn of them was a grizzled old timer, put through life's wringer more times than his frazzled psyche cared to recall.

It found his hand forced, and reduced the last squatter to a shredded pile of lacerated organs and splintered bones. Rather than let the body go to waste, he stomached the awful taste of aged meat.

Gnawing on a blunted bit of femur, the creature watched falling snowflakes begin to swirl about outside.

Yes. The well in the basement, a remnant of the forsaken property's old-as-Derry pedigree.

He could see the appeal of this location already.

Besides getting Bevs out of the immediate cold, it made for a nice focal point.

For he had plans.

Specific plans, involving this house.

Plans Bevs was not yet privy to.

But she would be.

After her teeth grew in...

After parting from her side one too many times...

Enduring the pain of disappointment.

Her disappointment in him.

He wasn't about to go keeping any more secrets from her.

* * *

"It's... a biT of a fixer-upper."

Standing barefoot in the foyer, an improvised-cloak around her shoulders, Bevs smirked at the joke. One hand held the red-plaid blanket closed around her neck.

The other grasped her pair of metal necklaces beneath the folds.

Outside, the wind continued to howl and wage war against the old sideboards. It could complain all it wanted, and not a wisp of it would be felt through the walls.

Inside, everything was still and quiet.

And - most importantly - warm.

For there was no prison of stone and steel keeping the cold prisoner.

After a little tour, It could tell.

This, this _was_ the right thing to do. Doubts about abandonment assuaged, Bevs was coming around to the idea of spending her winter above ground. Not just for her own physical good, but because the nature of their relationship dictated it be done.

And It had accommodated the change, rather than pout and whine and stick to his millenia-old habits out of misplaced pride.

She was happy to see it, if not more than she was happy to not be shivering anymore.

_...makes two of us..._

"Yeah. But it's a lot more... spait-hush, than the wagon."

Instantly, her gangly host was back over to her side, emitting a sound best described as a purring chuckle.

Her mispronounciations always lightened his mood.

"Spacious, dearesT one."

She nuzzled back, nose to nose, but still frowned, clear blue eyes glancing up at him in a wordless yes-I-know.

Pretending to be upset, again.

He was finally beginning to be able to tell the difference.

"Has it always been here?"

"As long as Derry haS," It explained, watching as she roamed a short distance, glancing about the many doorways. "Started small, like a shed, but as time weNt on, each new owner razed it down. Built bigger than the lasT."

_Until they didn't._

"Then, what's there to fix?" Bevs cocked an eyebrow, tilting her head at an old painting frame that, stubbornly, remained hanging tilted against the wall. The canvas of oiled pastels it had once housed had long since bled together into an indiscernable mess.

It's locks and ruffles drooped, along with his mood, when a moment ago, he had been feeling so optimistic. He folded his arms. "Don'T you want to be somewhere nice, Bevs?"

She glanced back at him. "The cistern's nice, Penny."

He smiled lopsidedly, understanding setting in.

"Nice- _er_ , tHen?"

It highly doubted Alvin Marsh had ever entertained the idea of someday moving up from the rundown apartment on Main Street.

Just because she had grown used to the squallor of the sewers didn't mean Bevs couldn't know something better.

She only had to be shown.

She just had to be made to believe.

The house would serve her needs better than the cistern ever did.

And if it kept her out of winter's merciless grip, all the better.

It believed that.

Right down to the blood-soaked bone fragments at the bottom of the Neibolt well.


	23. 1989 AU: Wising Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It visits the Marsh apartment for the first time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Recommended OST: “Miracle” by Vertical Horizon

The television wasn't on, for once. Nor were most of the lights at three in the morning.

But the radio was still playing in the kitchen.

_"No, I'm no angel... No, I'm no stranger to the dark..."_

Alvin Marsh had forgotten to turn it off.

Among other things.

An empty, unwashed beer can rested in the nearby countertop sink, lying on its side. It was unique among its kind, in that it had found a place to be that wasn't the wastebin or floor.

It gave a hollow clatter as the pipes beneath rumbled ominously.

A moment later, it was bunted into the air, to fall, clattering loudly, against the floorboards. The basin creaked, metal straining.

Seething already, copper hair hanging in wet strands across his face, It stooped down, crouching atop the sink's edge, and bared his fangs at his first victim - the radio.

_"Let me drive you crazy- "_

Knowing that gesture would do nothing to solve the problem, the creature pressed down on the power switch with perhaps a little too much force. Then, reconsidering that act was far too gentle a punishment, he sneered and gave the device a very-deliberate shove.

The cheap plastic appliance gave a lurch, clattering gently as it bounced off the peeling wall. The cord kept it short of falling off the counter.

The peppy, twangy-sounding music, provided by some arrangement known as The Gregg Allman Band, went quiet.

Didn't matter what it was saying, anyway.

Despite the new silence, the entity's gleaming, yellowed eyes stayed narrowed, borderline-irate. While the apartment's otherworldly intruder was tempted to do more, to stalk back into the living room where Alvin slept-slash-lay-passed-out, It had other priorities. His ears were telling him as much, having heard the ruckus from afar.

Retribution, in whatever form it came in, would have to wait, though.

Marsh wasn't who the creature was here for.

No. There was a closet door, around the corner, down at the end of the hall. The scuffling sounds emitting from inside, and an occasional creak, as it was strained against by something from within.

 _That_ was what he was here for.

Oh, but how he had hoped against hope it wasn't as he had heard, or thought.

Or how Beverly Marsh had described it.

_"Sometimes, it's only for a little while. Other times, it's... not."_

_"...When was tHe last time a 'sometime' hapPened?"_

_"...A l-long time."_

It didn't need take any more time delaying.

Remembering her hushed, soft words, the entity's dampened hair and suit went dry, as did his mouth. Crawling down off the sink, he stole around the corner, stealthy as a rat, unheard as he was unseen. The hallway he came upon, there were only four doors to pick from. Two bedrooms, the bathroom, and-

 _The_ one, with its slatted front, had a dining chair with its back wedged against the handle.

"Be... BeverLy?"

He had to make sure she was awake, lest he give her another fright.

For a moment, she didn't answer.

A very brief moment.

Then the door lurched again, under renewed strain. The locked handle twitched, but didn't budge, where the chair's backrest kept it.

A familiar pair of clear-hued eyes emerged from the darkness inside.

Painted like it was, It's assumed-face couldn't get any more pale. He frowned, irises cycling to a dark blue, and grabbed the chair by its arm.

Around the same time, the little five-year-old damsel found her voice.

"Penny? Is that- w-what are- "

"Shhh... you don't waNt him to hear you."

A moot suggestion, yes, coming from someone who could wipe a mortal's memory with the proverbial flick of a finger. But the less Alvin was ever aware of to begin with, the better.

After treating Beverly as he had, the man wasn't _worth_ the effort of lifting a supernatural finger.

Obediently, the girl went quiet.

For a second or two.

As the chair was pulled aside, the lock turned, and the handle twisted, she compliantly kept her silence.

At the sight of her crouching visitor, though, she promptly fell apart. Her face was thin and ghost-like, wide-eyed, smudged with some kind of dark substance. She followed the door even as it swung open, almost stumbling in her haste to escape.

One of It's long arms played out, thrown like a lifeline to a drowning refugee, and roped her in before she could tumble to the floor. Blinking tears away, Beverly whimpered softly, breathing more and more rapidly as the reality of her newfound freedom overwhelmed her, but didn't struggle as she was ensnared and gathered up.

She buried her face deep into his bicep, presumably to quench her sobbing before it could begin in earnest. From that, the creature couldn't hope to deny how closely, how badly she needed to be held. Shoulders bowed, he folded both arms tight around her small form, chin hooking over her shoulder, cheek pressing flush against the back of her head.

Safe... for the moment.

Even if her close-up dosage of despair momentarily overwhelmed his senses like a splash of acid.

He closed his eyes, stroking her back, over and over.

Possessively, almost.

...When had he started thinking in those terms?

Just now?

"Shhhhh, shh, hush. Y-you're- you're oKay."

Yes, he was somewhat inexperienced with the act of comforting another. But he had some idea of where to start.

And you didn't get better if you didn't practice.

Right now, making a protective cocoon of himself seemed like the best course of action. And _keeping_ her close, muffling her sounds of misery, that was the next best tactic.

Easy. She didn't seem to be in a hurry to part from him.

The first time they had, she made her newfound affinity known.

_"Th... thank you."_

_"For- for wHat?"_

_"For listening."_

He had blinked, head tilting, as she left him behind with those two mystifying words.

Listening? Amazing how big a difference that had made in her mind, in forming an opinion of him. Yes, he was a mite curious, initially. Beverly was by no means the first child in Derry whose cries had ever spurred It to act.

Most of the time, those encounters ended... differently.

Or no.

 _This_ was the exception now.

Luring someone as far as the edge of the canal, on no more than a promise to talk and maybe be gifted a balloon in return - It had half-expected her to drop a stopper in the bathroom sink's drain, pretend she had never heard his voice.

Instead, she had followed his instructions, sought the key where he said it was, risked a beating to come.

They talked. He listened.

Then, ignoring the proffered balloon, she hugged him around the legs.

At that, It froze.

Never had anyone forgone a gift (or the illusion of one) to seek out _him_.

That notion had taken a few nights to sink in. Once it had, though, he couldn't deny the magnitude of the new concept: of importance.

Yes, kids were important to It in a way that could never be honestly and equally reciprocated.

But this was the first time the entity experienced the idea he could be of value to someone else.

Like now.

He was important in that he had opened the closet, remembering where Alvin had seen fit to forget. Beverly would have likely rested poorly, gone to school with a new host of bruises, and maybe a half-full stomach.

If she was any kind of lucky.

That is, if she went to school at all.

_You... could just-_

Eyes opening, It quashed that thought with a soft, barely-audible growl.

No. That was ludicrous.

But the sound he made seemed to finally break through the fog of sorrow Beverly hadn't yet emerged from.

Sniffling, she turned her head at hearing it. She was still clinging against his arm, with shaking fingers.

"Y-you... Penny, you're r-really here?"

He almost let go completely, startled. Her question effectively jarred him back to the present. Gently, he pried her back far enough to see her face.

"Of course I am, BeverLy. Why would..." He trailed off, seeing the dark blotches adorning her tender face. Both cheeks, left eye.

And they certainly weren't the work of a makeup kit.

The entity frowned, biting his lip. Yes, he felt a rush of new anger, knowing exactly where the bruises had come from, but he was also determined not to show it.

Lest she misconstrue it as him being displeased with her.

Thankfully, the girl came to his rescue with an abrupt, shaky-sounding laugh. A leftover tear fled from her right eye as she smiled. "Oh-okay. But if you h-heard, w-what took you so long?"

It couldn't help uttering a little amused scoff.

Bravery, or some quivering slice of it, was left.

She certainly had that going for her.

"SorRy, I... wasn't s-sure."

_Sure?_

_Of all the words her language is comprised of, you weren't "sure"?_

_What to do? What to say?_

_Who to-_

Beverly cut his mental tirade off before he could decide on a solid reason for his late-night interception.

"You still... still came, though." Smiling, she turned in place, managing to lift her arms to finally hug him back, around the neck, all without leaving his embrace. "Thank you."

Just like that, the blissful moment was over.

A distant snore interrupted them, stuttering and rumbling like an ill-kept construction machine's engine.

Nonexistent claws curling, It growled softly in retaliation, red lips curling back in a mute snarl.

Eyes popping open, Beverly reared back, looking at him with renewed alarm. "Did Daddy- "

"Nooo. He's sleepiNg."

"But- if he hears you, or f-finds me out- "

"He won't."

"Why?"

His irises burned yellow, quirking down at her. "BecauSe he _won't_."

Alvin Marsh was a baseball fan. And a drinker. And a gambler.

These things tended to roll together frequently. And not always for Beverly's benefit.

 _All this, over some_ _**stupid** _ _game your favorite team lost._

Brows low, pupils narrowed, It hissed like a snake at the thought.

Tomorrow. Tomorrow, that final score would turn up again as misreported.

Among other things that would need tweaking around town.

But later, much later.

Right now, addressing Beverly's well-being was more important.

"C'mon. Let's gEt you to bed."

Ridiculously, the five-year-old thought to protest his suggestion. Just for a moment.

"But, Penny, I- ahh!"

Repositioning his arms, lower and for support, It stood.

Thankfully, Beverly didn't try to fight her way free. Even if she didn't expect him to pick her up, she appeared to sense the distinct lack of harm in his doing so. The little startled cry meshed with the tightening of her arms around his neck.

"Shhh... It's oKay. I know the way."

"How? You've n-never been there before..."

_No. But there are only so many rooms, aren't there?_

_...There we go._

As it turned out, Beverly's was at least somewhat-decently arranged. There was a twin bed, dresser, a toy chest, an end table with a lamp. Arguably, it looked the cleanest, or at least cleaner than the rest of the place. Like its clothes and furnishings had been washed.

(Maybe within the last month?)

Still, trying to set her down on the bed's edge proved to be difficult for another reason. Her arms didn't budge, hands holding her own wrists, and he didn't dare unwind his own first.

Beverly twisted around, sparing him only a plaintive, ice-blue glance, before she nuzzled against his throat. Somehow, she managed to make the gesture seem pleading.

"But- I di-didn't have any supper."

"AgaIn?" Despite knowing that was likely the case, It couldn't help balking at being told of the depravity. "How- how long weRe you- "

"Since after school today," she mumbled, shrugging. "Didn't do my homework, either."

_Due tomorrow? Hmm. Gotta throw something in the way, there. Which one was her teacher? ...Him? Hm. Yes. That tire on his car is kinda low on air. One poke and he'll be late enough to class, not care about collecting assignments._

It paused to muse.

Frowning, his corporeal form bent over, shifting Beverly's weight to one arm with ease. With the other hand, he swept the bed's blanket back.

"I'll fiNd you something in the kitChen, here."

She tricked him. Instead of letting go completely, once she was seated on the bed's edge, her hands caught his shoulders. Face to face, he stopped, raising an eyebrow at her concerned visage.

"No, Daddy'll see you!"

"He's _asleep_ , BevErly."

"But he could wake up."

"He didn't- notice me befoRe," It explained, reluctantly, instead of falling back on the typical 'because' excuse. "I turned the radio ofF, and he didn't even twiTch."

"...He didn't?"

"Nope."

He waited perhaps half a minute as that sunk in. Beverly's eyes darted, while her brain processed the insane idea that it was indeed possible to tread lightly around her father.

As much as it amused It, to think she had never been in a position to think so before, the half-smile he donned was a touch sad. Delicately, he traced a fingertip up her neck, letting it come to a stop beneath her chin.

_Give her a reason to believe that._

Well, now was as good a time as any to make it clear.

What he was capable of.

"Are you hungRy or not?"

"Y... yes, but- "

In the next milisecond, she was looking at empty air.

* * *

_...Nothing._

_Not a peep._

_Not "Penny, come back" or "Daddy" or... anything._

_...How? How do you see something do that and not... react?_

It turned away from the barely-running fridge, shaking his head. Finding nothing there besides too-old takeout food and unopened cans of beer, he closed the door. The overhead cabinets (not so overhead for a being of his stature) might prove more rewarding.

He pried one open, looking with disdain over the selection of boxes inside. Instant oatmeal, three or four kinds of cereal. The next two cabinet doors revealed no better options.

No quick fixes.

No... _good_ quick fixes.

That left only the bowl on the table. He may have to go further than this apartment's kitchennette. Or conjure something out of thing air.

Beverly wouldn't know the difference.

Or... would she?

She was clearly wired a bit unusually already, able to keep her wits about, even under duress. From her mortal perspective, circus clowns shouldn't be capable of ninja-like break-ins, middle of the night, much less know how to teleport.

But she hadn't screamed in fright, seeing him vanish.

Didn't that count for something?

It had to.

Just like the stand-in meal he now sought for her. Something substantial, something _whole_ and already existing, he could manage that much.

And maybe-

_Quit. Don't entertain that thought._

_Don't entertain entertaining it._

Gradually, his eyes darkened from yellow back to a sullen blue.

_...She'd never._

* * *

"Will you- be staying?"

It spared her a sideways look, fighting to keep a blank face.

Apple in hand (the best one left in the basket atop the kitchen table), Beverly smiled up at him. She had thought to change out of her dress, into proper pyjamas, while he was absent.

Ergo, why she hadn't cried out. Instead of panicking, she had been smart, taken a step toward taking care of herself. He had returned to find her wincing, trying to brush her hair with an old comb.

"Until you go to sleeP, at least," the entity admitted. Sitting beside her on the bed, he reached past the girl, experimentally turning the one pillow over. The feathers inside, it had some body left to it. "You have school tomorRow."

"I didn't do my homework, though."

"So?"

" _So_ , I'll get in trouble."

_No more trouble than you do here._

_I've already meddled more than I should._

_But if I don't, who will?_

"It'll be fine, Bevs."

She stopped mid-bite, eyebrows furrowing. Her nose wrinkled as she pondered the impromptu nickname over. "...Bevs?"

Slowly, despite the surprise he gave himself, It glanced over at her. He sensed only a slight aura of bewilderment, but from his side of the conversation, a single-syllable Bevs was easier to utter than the thrice-syllabled Beverly.

Was that approval he heard in her voice, already?

She already knew him as Penny, moreso than Pennywise.

Weren't they familiar enough for nicknames?

"It'll be fine," he repeated, stupidly, at a loss for whether to refute or acknowledge that slip-up.

Mercifully, she made it easier. With a little cryptic smile of her own, she resumed gnawing on the apple.

"And... if it isn't," he went on, hesitatingly. "I'Ll make it up to you."

_No. You're letting yourself go there._

_You just told yourself you wouldn't._

_Idiot, I've already gone there._

_I'm_ _**here** _ _, aren't I?_

"You would?" Beverly asked, as she didn't appear to be running out of questions anytime soon. The ache of the bruises on her face didn't appear to be paining her enough that she was trying to avoid smiling. "If I tell Mr. Sandrei what happened, he'll understand."

"Worry about that- later, okay?" he managed to pass that off as an answer, patting her shoulder. When that wasn't shrugged off, and her smile stayed, he leaned closer. "You need to take caRe of you first."

_As best she can, you mean._

_And she can't very well take care of herself locked up like she was._

_You want to risk something worse happening next time, on those odds?_

_There won't always be strings you can pull._

_You're apparently-important to her._

_Is she to you?_

For a moment, Beverly - knowledgable, timid, inwardly-strong Beverly - disappeared.

A like-faced alternative twin known as Bevs took her place.

With a delighted, daring giggle, she stashed the unbitten side of the apple in her savior's already-open mouth. The suddenness of it shocked him still. Hands effectively freed, she reached up to hug him around the neck once more.

"Okay, Penny!"

He couldn't find it in him to react, outwardly, besides a stunned blink.

Inwardly, It allowed himself the equivilant of a guilty smile.

Around an hour later, the exhaustion of the day got to her. Thoughts churning, weighing countless pros against cons, It lingered in the doorway. He stood watch long enough to see her eyes close, and stay shut.

Slinking back to the sink, he paused to set the radio back on the counter, push the power button.

Whitesnake saw him out the proverbial door.

_"And I've made up my mind... I ain't wastin' no more time..."_


	24. 1989 AU: School Of Thought

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bevs, you can’t have it both ways.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Follow-up to “Lapse”, pre “To The Bone”.
> 
> Unbetaed.

She didn't have much in the way of valuables. Besides her necklaces, Bevs couldn't fathom thinking of anything else she currently 'owned' being more important. Not wanting to lose them, she quickly made a habit of taking her jewelry off when venturing outside.

Lucky thing she hadn't been wearing them when the strangers found her. One pull and the chains might have snapped, or hurt her, badly.

Venturing back to the cistern, though, seeing them again made her realize what had been truly upsetting about that near brush with capture. Huffing angrily, Bevs threaded both necklaces over her head, then stalked back out of the wagon, to the corner of its lowered stage.

There, Bevs knelt down, both key and feather charm swinging down to bump her forehead. She peered under the wall's edge as though she were looking under a bed.

"You left me, _again_."

_When you said you wouldn't._

Underneath the wagon, a space had been hollowed out, to store a selection of nonperishable groceries. Normally, you couldn't get to them with the stage down.

But that never stopped Pennywise. He zeroed in on the crawlspace the moment they came back.

Bevs heard a clatter, of metal banging against metal, presumably as her eldritch caregiver rooted through the meager selection. Then a can unceremoniously rolled out from the dark, careening through a puddle of water as it went.

Pennywise followed a moment later. He crawled up onto the stage beside her, moving with all the long-limbed ease of a spider. Crouching down, he held a different can of soup in both hands. The lid was already pried open, but he stopped short, frowning at seeing her almost-glaring at him, completely ignoring the offering.

_No. Dinner can wait. We need to talk._

Which he started to, albeit reluctantly.

He still seemed to be having trouble with the whole "don't leave my side" lesson.

"Ohh? When... when was thaT?"

Bevs scoffed, scooting back to sit down, cross-legged, and fold her arms.

"Before. _Before_ I went outside."

Squinting in the near-dark, Pennywise tilted his head. The glow emanating from the wagon's inner walls cast them both in an amberish-orange hue.

"You askEd if you could go, I said 'yes'. How is tHat 'leaving you'?"

Bevs shook her head.

No. She hadn't thought that through, put it the wrong way as she said it. That wasn't the point she was trying for.

"Weren't you watching? You say you always are- watching, listening."

"I am."

"What for?" Bevs asked, almost demandingly. "If it isn't me, whatareyouloo- "

Her words ran together, in her haste to try and explain. She had to talk fast, to try and get to the truth before it was snatched away.

But at the fingertip that pressed down on her upper lip, she shushed. Like the good girl she was, and had never thought to be otherwise.

The way he was looking at her now, so critically, brows lowered, it was an expression she didn't think to cross.

Daddy had looked the same way whenever she had spoken when she wasn't supposed to.

"You're upset, that I didn't apPear sooner."

Unsure of this turn in conversation, Bevs glanced down at his hand, then up again.

"Yes?"

_I was, but-_

"But I did, when you needed me," Pennywise went on, in an oddly-level voice, not unlike the one he used as Uncle Rob. The hand moved, reaching around to cup her jaw. "Didn't I?"

"I-I needed you be- _before_ that," Bevs gasped, haltingly, as she felt the panic start to grip her again - the panic she hadn't quite been smothered, even now. "They were- they were going to take me back."

The frown eased from his face, to better match his neutral voice. "Back to where, Bevs? Your Daddy?" Waiting for an answer, he set the soup can aside, waiting for the conversational bait to be taken. "There's no 'back' for you tO go to."

Chin quivering, Bevs felt her eyes begin stinging. Impulsively, she reached up, clasping both necklaces - which suddenly felt like a pair of two-faced, not-so-welcome reminders of her old life - in her hand. "The-they still would've taken me. And you wouldn't... wouldn't..."

"Wouldn't what?"

"You wouldn't've stopped them."

An irrational thought, that one. There were two occasions It _had_ saved her. Rob had stopped Officer Bowers. Some creature she didn't see, that had to have been Penny, stopped the hikers.

No, there was no valid reason she should think her caregiver's protection should flag now.

And, staring her down, reading her thoughts as much as her face, Pennywise didn't hesitate to call her out on it.

The hand on her jaw tightened, just a fraction, thumb bracing itself firmly on her cheek. He leaned closer, close enough she could see the orange refracting off his blue irises.

The same clear-blue as hers.

"You're upset. You're alLowed to be upset. But don't think for a _moment_ I'd let anyoNe taKe you awAy from me."

Was that a growl she heard under his words?

"Why not? It- it could happen," Bevs challenged, in a growl of her own, trying in vain to match the intensity - a cub versus a full grown lion. Her eyes were burning, brimming with tears that hadn't spilled yet. "You're not- not my- you're- "

_What? He's a friend, the only real one you've ever had._

_Were you thinking... of him as being something more? A best friend?_

_Dummy. You can't ever have a 'best' friend without having other friends to compare them to first._

_He's not Daddy. He's not even Uncle Rob, not with that face. He's just... Penny._

_There is no word for what he is, what he means to you._

Still holding their faces close, Pennywise waited until her stammers had ceased, had failed to bring up an effective refute, before speaking again. He looked a bit milder. His jaw wasn't clenched, but his eyes and tone were seriousness incarnate.

"You asked to stay with me, instead of your Daddy, to keEp you safe. And I'Ll keep you safe, when you _nEed_ to be kept safe. But you also stilL need to _know_ what it is to taKe care of you, Bevs. That means growing up, just a liTtle bit."

_Like he's told you before._

_But that was before._

_Now is... now is supposed to be different._

_Isn't it?_

_If it isn't, why can't it be?_

Suddenly, pouting seemed appropriate. Yes, she was being peevish and implacable, thinking like that. But at five-years-old, she already had had to think and act beyond her years, just to survive. And she had done so more times than anyone her age should ever have to.

What was fair about that?

Fuming, Bevs felt her much-delayed tears start to run. She let go of her necklaces, using both hands to pull his off her face.

"That's _not_ taking care of me!"

The shrill words bounced only once around the cistern before fading away.

"Oh, it's not? And _you_ would kNow, hoW?" Pennywise retorted, flatly. Unflinchingly, he reached out, wrapping an arm around her shoulders, roping her in close, to explain in no uncertain terms. " _Tell_ me, then. How could you possibLy thiNk I'd _be_ so simply forgetful as to _let_ that hapPen? I wouldn't, and I _won'T_."

Bevs balked, sniffling. She felt a flicker of fear, at being talked to in such a low, gravelly way. It was intimidating, to hear him talk this way. But at the same time, she didn't shy away.

There was nothing to be afraid of. Penny had never hurt her, not directly.

She couldn't.

She couldn't tell him she knew better.

If anything, _he_ was trying to tell _her_ something, about how hard he was _trying_ to take care of her. The weeks they had stayed together, that was already _so_ many more times than Alvin had ever tried.

And she wasn't listening, wasn't making it any easier, being all mule-headed.

How unfair was that, to him?

Watching her ponder these things, the entity's expression finally eased. He unwound his arm to pat her head, then sit back, at a safe distance, with one leg dangling off the edge of the stage. Belatedly, he remembered to pick up the abandoned soup can.

He peeled the lid back as easily as a tab off a beer can, then offered it over.

"Taking care of someone isn't juSt about making sure they're fed and have a place to stay, Beverly."

Timidly, she accepted the soup. "Heh." She managed a giggle at her own foolishness, wiping her eyes with the back of her other hand. "...It's Bevs, not Beverly."

Grinning knowingly, Pennywise helped dab away the tears with a glove, using the fabric to soak them up. So long as he didn't think to use them to wash her face with, she would tolerate it.

"Hmph. You're riiigHt."

Rough patch passed, she paused for an experimental sip of the brothy soup. It was a cold, slightly-lumpy chicken noodle, that tasted as salty as her tears, but it was certainly preferable to another meatless sandwich or diced-up fruit.

It helped wash the leftover taste of blood out of her mouth, too.

"And... so are you. I... know, I need to take care of myself, _when_ I need to. I need to know what that _is_. I just... I hoped you'd get there sooner, I guess."

The grin faultered, as Pennywise seemed to stop and consider her words. He glanced over at the now-old scrape on her arm, where the tree branch had snagged her skin. Using the now-damp glove he wiped the blood away, a tad forcefully, as it had dried since then.

"Next time, I wilL."

Frowning, Bevs went for another sip of soup.

"I hope there's never a 'next time'."

At that he arched an eyebrow, then glanced down at the new bloodstain on his hand. "You can't know tHere won't be."

_Good point._

_As they all seem to be._

Glancing at him, Bevs couldn't help sighing into the can, before she thought to tip it down and swallow. "Mm. Is there anything you don't know?"

_Daddy seemed to. Are you trying to outdo him?_

Very much so, she suspected.

Pennywise scoffed softly, with an exaggerated shrug that could be seen as an affirmative or a negative.

"What don't I knoW? Ohh, plenty, it seems. I learn sOmething new eVery day."

"...Yeah, so do I."

_Living with you makes it kinda unavoidable._

"GoOd."

_That makes us even._

Bevs took a few more minutes of silence, concentrating on finishing her dinner. The only thing better than being back in the safe, dark cistern was being there with a full stomach.

But something else had to be put to bed before she saw herself to sleep.

"What... what did you do to them?"

_The hikers._

_I never did see, I was too busy running._

Thankfully, Pennywise didn't need to be reminded of whom the girl was referring to. Sharply, he crawled forward, circling around behind her, poking and prodding, apparently-inspecting her for any more cuts or scratches.

He usually took to fussing over her when no other distractions presented themselves.

"Not much."

"But I- I bit one of them." Bevs tried not to shudder at a slight tickling in her gums, deep down, below the roots of her teeth. Her unseen fangs seemed to mantle there, like a bird's feathers, quivering at the idea of being mentioned.

( _"_ We _did good, didn't we?"_

...If teeth could talk. Now there was a disturbing idea.)

The clown's pitchy voice hummed behind her head.

"Mmmm-hm. I saw."

There it was again, that weird touch of pride in his voice.

Bevs flinched under the creature's touch, feeling her hair being combed through, matted though it was. "And that was... good? That was the right thing to do?"

_According to you?_

"Yes."

She twisted around, looking up at him. At her glance, he stooped down, illuminated against the vague glow that surrounded the top of the cistern's tower. "What'd you do to the others?"

He smirked, then gestured aimlessly, fingers wiggling dismissively in the vague direction of the Barrens. "Ohhh, a litTle _scare_ , nothing more."

"...Will you show me how?"

"How?" he repeated, the glimmer of levity already vanished. "You'Re not me, Bevs."

"But- I could be. Like you."

_Is that what you want?_

_You asked me, before._

_Do_ you _want me to be?_

Unspoken though it was, Pennywise seemed to think on the possibility, again. He didn't appear as troubled by the idea as he had at first, days ago, after helping with the pain of her new teeth. His relaxed body language, compared to the twitches and hunches of before, said enough about his distress. That had been a rattling experience, for both of them.

Maybe, after a few days more, when the excitement of today's near-miss had settled, he would come around to idea?

If he wasn't already.

"You could."

Bevs thought to feel frightened, or apprehensive of what being like could mean, but she pushed the notions aside. Whatever magic it was that her caretaker relied on, to change, turn invisible, teleport, make people forget - it clearly rubbed off on anything that stayed around him long enough.

Maybe that was why he lived alone for so long, why he never made friends, much less took anyone in, before her. They would've been too scared of the possibility of it happening, if they knew.

He had said he didn't even know it could happen, the fangs unexpectedly growing in like some abhorrent mutation. Bevs believed him on that. Being alone for so long, maybe he had just forgotten any other time it _had_.

If staying with Penny meant she became someone else, in name _and_ in form, all she could do was make darn well sure he wasn't going to disregard her, to cast her aside. Not now, not ever.

Not like Daddy had, once Mommy was gone.

Bevs had to grin, infinitely pleased at the idea, to think she held that sway, that kind of power now. She wasn't helpless anymore. It was enough of a happy thought to make her teeth shift, and she didn't care how mispronounced her words now sounded with the sharp ones out.

"Cahn I? Pleashse?"

It did the trick.

Looking down at the sudden distortion of her face, the new eagerness in her eyes, Pennywise snorted with nasally laughter. He only stopped to wipe away some of the chicken-soup-infused spit that had leaked down her chin.

"If you _can..._ we'll seE how it goes, woN't we?"


	25. Epilogue AU: Wake Up Call

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An epilogue alternative to _ITerations_ : Mrs. Hanscom, you have a visitor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because this idea won't leave me be until I do something with it.
> 
> Hold your disbelief, please. This is _not_ your typical postnatal visit. If I make any childbirth procedural errors, forgive me, or just call it artistic license. I may be female, but I'm not too versed in that area.
> 
> Part 1 of 2(?).
> 
> Leave some feedback if you'd like to see part two. This is one I'm content to leave standalone if not.

Beverly Hanscom never knew true exhaustion before today. And while aglow with every euphoric emotion under the sun, eventually, her body decided it had had enough. Somewhere around four AM, things took a reversing turn. Her sapped, depleted form practically commanded her brain to switch off. It was as much for her, as it was for everyone's, own good.

Stupid body didn't know what it was talking about, as usual.

Still, she fell asleep smiling.

_It's over. You did it._

_Now, for the love of_ God _, woman, let go of my hand._

Or that's what Richie would have said, were he the one to have had the 'misfortune' of staying by her side throughout all those grueling sixteen hours of labor. Or the twelve hours since.

Imagining a horror-faced Tozier playing the reluctant midwife had given Beverly reason to laugh, even as Ben smiled tearfully down at her and leaned in for a celebratory kiss. He was as much a man of few words as he had been in the almost thirty years they had known each other. If her husband of the past two months had endured any broken fingers on her account, he had done so without complaint.

Where was he now?

Following only a quick catnap, Ben had stepped out to make the many texts and calls necessary to summon the rest of their visiting circle of friends to the hospital. As much as Beverly had wished they could all be present at the big moment, she had taken the practical route.

Between them and the medical staff, that would have been one cramped delivery room.

And there was every possibility that one or more of them would've fainted (although none of them would have been man enough to admit it... no scratch that; Stan already admitted to "a very brief episode of lightheadedness" while welcoming his firstborn).

More reasons to keep smiling, Beverly decided. She would take every one she could get.

_My, my, a bit greedy, aren't we?_

Please. Greediness may have been a synonym, and not a symptom, of pregnancy. Never in the last six months could she remember feeling at once so excited, terrified, and anxious before, every minute of every day. Those feelings started at sunup and stayed with her until laying her head back down on her pillow the following evening.

Oh, who was she kidding? She felt that way in her sleep, too.

Even the late September weather was unseasonably warm. As of 2016, Derry General was still, by no means, a state-of-the-art hospital. But the walls were just barely insulated enough to withstand the harsh winters. The downside was, in the autumn, the heat bled out of them like a sieve. Warmth from outside was a welcome buffer, meaning the old basement boilers that struggled to keep the place warm could rest easy, not run full tilt.

One of these days, something was gonna give down there.

Beverly half-rose from sleep's spell at the thought, scoffing gently against the pillow she had buried her face into. No. She was too tired to laugh, not even at the morbid thought of the hospital going up in flames.

_Well, at least the county would get a new one out of the deal._

Just as well, if it was going to happen (perish the thought), she and her family would be far away.

"Hmm..."

Beverly swore she could feel her ear prick up in the milisecond before her eyes popped open. She gripped the covers to her chest, stifling any impulsive gasp, holding the edge to her mouth.

Instantly, her blood ran cold.

"No, not... too far awAy, I hope..."

Never mind _what_ that voice was saying.

Someone.

There was someone in the room with her.

Wait.

What was that...

Beverly frowned, eyes swiveling to peer back over her shoulder, squinting in newfound confusion. The lights were turned down, save for the lamp beside her bed. While she had appreciated that upon lying down, now it was an unwelcome obstacle.

Besides the sound, there was a new... smell. Something altogether different from the burn of antiseptics and their generally-dust-free-surroundings. To her hypersensitized nose, it was a cold, refreshing scent. Almost like...

_No._

_No, that can't be._

_Ben and I, we timed this on a whim. Mike stayed behind, called us all back two weeks before today. Just in case... in case..._

_No, what were we thinking? That couldn't have happened._

_It'd be too good to be true._

Beverly blinked, eyes shifting back and forth. Her frown eased, as she finally realized what it was she was smelling.

Mints.

And whose voice it was she was hearing.

Someone's she thought, more than once, she would never hear again.

_It... can't be._

"Oh, buT it _caaan_."

Then the same voice pounced, as only a sound that rapidly changes places could.

It was on top of her, soft and pitchy and sing-songy, practically _purring_ , right into her ear.

"Hiya, Bevs."

She twisted her head around to look.

Just like that, her blood went from ice cold to molten hot. Whatever lingering aches and pains her overtaxed body felt went away in that instant. The sight that greeted her, hovering over her shoulder, reduced her already-shallow breath to a skeletal whisper, and only that kept her from screaming in delight.

_You!_

Eyes shining bright in the dark, Pennywise smiled down at her.

He hadn't aged a day.

"Yeah, me, reme- ow! H-hey, eaSy!"

No. She didn't remember actually tackling him, exactly, much less how, with her ungainly body normally in no way capable of such a feat. Somehow, it ended with her sprawled across his chest, both of them half-dangling off the end of the bed.

Beverly didn't know how they managed to change positions so quick, or if it had taken very long at all. Only bare adrenaline combined with sheer, unbridled glee could have moved her.

But she didn't _care_.

"Oh, hey, r-realLy, settl- ow, that huRts."

"You idiot!"

Muffled against the silver satin, it came out sounding more like _Moh-midit!_

"Ha!" Pennywise choked out a laugh. It was all he could utter, at first. Her arms were fastened so tight around his neck, a choked voice was better than none at all. Nevertheless, she imagined the smile never left his face. "Now- the-theRe's a fine way to say helLo."

Beverly could only sniff and shake her head, face burying itself deep into his collar again. The folds both soaked up and smeared her tears. In less than a minute she was laughing, crying, wanting to scream all over again.

Blasted Fate.

Hadn't she done enough of that for one day?

The arm tightly folded across her back lifted. Fruitlessly, the hand it ended in tried to pry her off.

Fat chance.

"Shhh! You're- whoa, stop- you're gonna waKe- Bevs, I'm hapPy to see you, too. But- can I- I get my balanCe back? First? Please?"

Eventually, Beverly got ahold of herself long enough to pull back, to take in his wincing, concerned expression. With great reluctance, she glanced down.

His right arm stayed fastened around her back. His left was stretched to its limit, fingers splayed, stilted upon the floor. Somehow, it hadn't folded under their combined weight.

It was starting to tremble, though. Keeping them both from taking a rough tumble off onto the unyielding linolieum would do that.

"You idiot," she repeated, although this adonishment was directed more at herself. Amazing that she had somehow managed to almost tackle him clean off the bed at all. But it certainly wasn't the smartest split-second decision she had ever made.

_Among others._

Shoving those two forboding words to the back of her head, Beverly finally thought to sit up, to turn aside.

In the same instant, her eldritch visitor pushed off the floor. Smoothly as though he had performed the act a thousand times he rose up. Then he rolled the opposite way, drawing up to perch easily on his heels at the very foot of the mattress.

Gasping, still unable to totally believe her watery eyes, Beverly didn't wait for an invitation.

She dove in for another hug, one that wasn't so percarious for either of them to hold. He almost toppled over, before recovering with a laugh, long arms wrapping flush around her back. Their heads rested against one another, his chin pressed against her cheekbone.

He practically purred in contentment.

"Therrre, that's moRe like it."

And for a time, who _cared_ how long, they just stayed frozen that way.

Beverly kept holding on.

Her tear ducts ran dry.

With that came the next inevitable step.

She didn't know what to say first.

After all, what _do_ you ask first of the fantastic, terrifying, cosmic-outcast creature you last saw twenty-seven years ago? Especially one who said that, against all odds, you wouldn't remember him, should you ever find yourself back in your podunk little hometown around the same time he woke again.

There was no right way to go about that.

Or wrong.

Was there?

"Where- where have you been?"

Not that.

And Pennywise certainly called her out on it, once he was done laughing.

Snickering into his glove, that is. Full-blown, almost-demonic laughter would have drawn _far_ too many curious ears from down the hall.

"Where? Hah heh. Heh. Wh-wheRe do you _think_ , Bevs?"

She blinked. "You- yes, but- how- "

Fidgeting, she made to stand up. To go where, to do what, she didn't know.

Gently, her visitor kept hold of her shoulders, keeping her from moving too far.

"Hey, _easy_. That's enough- gymnasticS for one night."

Stilling immediately, Beverly couldn't help a surprised stammer.

"Gymnast- you still- "

_You still remember._

"Yes, all thoSe hours with Ben at the libraRy? Still stored up heRe." The entity tapped his temple. His painted mouth twisted, like he couldn't decide between broadcasting disgust or pride. "For beTter or... worse?"

_Like me. I remembered._

_You said- we wouldn't-_

_Oh, what does it matter?_

_I do! So will the others!_

"You big oaf," she chastized, unable to pour any real ire into the words. "You said we wouldn't."

"Wouldn't wHat?"

_And he's still doing the parrot act._

She scoffed and grabbed hold of him again, nuzzling close, despite how she was beginning to babble like an excited ten-year-old.

" _Remember_ , dummy. You said we wouldn't. But Mike- he stayed. He and Georgie kept track. And the rest of us- We did! We all remembered!"

A finger on her lips quieted her instantly.

"Shhhh. SetTle _down_ , Miss Marsh. You're gonna maKe a scene."

Beverly snorted, unable to not see a mental image of Robert Gray, almost tripping over six-year-old Georgie Denbrough as they tried to cross the threshold of the house on Neibolt Street.

_...always had a weakness for causing a scene..._

_That's your job, right?_

She drew back. "Heh. Makes two of us, Dingbat."

Lip jutting out, he pretended to pout and flicked her nose.

_Ting._

"Again wiTh the nicknames?"

Beverly couldn't help grinning foolishly.

Never mind his dour expression. The tone, the way he said it.

That was a challenge. She could tell.

_Remember those, too?_

"Ding-Dong. Spooky. Putz. Dolly. Jingles. We never ran out, Stripes."

Said markings flexed as he grinned again, blue eyes smiling to match.

"That you didn'T."

Then, all too suddenly, the smile abruptly fell away.

Even if he was just concerned, Beverly was sad to see it vanish.

"You, on the other hand, _you_ neEd to rest. Now."

"But- "

"Uh uh! No buts." He started fussing, plucking strands of bedraggled scarlet hair from her face, looping them back behind her head. "If any of them heaR what you did- "

"What? The pouncing act?" Beverly surmised, hands in her lap. She sighed, not unhappily, to think of how her friends would react to _all_ the news to come, good and bad. "No. They wouldn't believe it."

At that Pennywise paused, frowning, hand poised with a lock of hair. "Pft. I almost don't belieVe it, and _I_ was the victim."

The most willing victim there ever was, from the sound of it.

Beverly couldn't deny that. Despite her words, she didn't have it in her to deny anything right now.

She could only laugh, reaching up to kiss him soundly on the cheek.

_Just like last time._

_Only under a-billion-times-happier circumstances._

_Speaking of which..._

"That's okay. I'll be your witness. And if that's not good enough, there is... someone else we can ask."

_Ask? He's not even a day old._

_How he's slept through all of this-_

The wide-eyed, high-browed expression on Pennywise's face seemed to point out all of these things at once. Then, with a single jerking turn, his head rotated around, to stare at the covered bassinet across the room.

Beverly snickered softly through her nose, pushing her mussed bangs out of her eyes.

_You dolt._

_You had to know this was coming._

Mind made up, she gently slapped his arm to get his attention back. "You dummy, help me up. I'll introduce you."


	26. BTS: Higher Ground

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little friction on the set, there is.
> 
> Just a little.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A would-be outtake from _ITerations_.

"Penny, help!"

_Help?_

"GeorgIe?"

Said boy bounded into the slowly-filling-up storage room as though the slobbering hounds of hell were on his heels.

How exactly he had managed to find his eldritch guardian in said room, much less doing what, those factors went by the wayside. To be addressed shortly after, presumably.

Right now, Georgie had other concerns.

"Quick, kneel down!"

_Don't ask questions. Just do it._

Face blank, Pennywise didn't pause to consider the order. To him, Georgie Denbrough was nigh impossible to disobey when he used that kind of tone. But upon doing as he was told, the entity's bewilderment only magnified as the kid raced around to stand behind him.

" _WhaT_ are you- "

Before he could try and crane his head back to watch, there were arms threading themselves around his neck. Weight settling on his upper back.

"Now, stand up! Hur- ahh!"

_"You!"_

Practically startled back to full height, Pennywise almost felt the arms around him loose their grip. The new tightness against his throat was of no concern (he could forgo pretending to breathe momentarily). Just as untroubling was the feeling of the six-year-old now lying flush against his back, feet dangling some three feet off the ground.

"Eek!" With a cry that was half alarm, half giggle, Georgie ducked, face half hidden behind the clown's ear. "Nyh uh! Nope! Safe zone! You can't get me up here."

Undeterred, Richie Tozier stepped up, can-shaped 'weapon' held at the ready. With a sadistic grin to match, he aimed and pressed down on the button.

Unfamiliar with the brightly-colored device, It didn't think to shield his face.

"Now, who _says_ I can't- oh. ...Sorry, Bill."

"...AgaIn?"

And with that deadpanned pronouncement, the scene was shattered.

"Cut."

At the sigh-slash-command of Andy Muschietti, the near-silent camera crew dutifully swarmed to life again. In truth, the set itself didn't neat much resetting after the fifth failed run at this. But in the interests of looking invested with keeping continuity between takes (something always prone to going awry in the editing room) they gave looking busy a fair shot.

Meanwhile, their three leads - standing in place - were left to momentarily stew.

Silly string. By no means _the_ most precise gag effect out there.

And particularly annoying when it found its way into one's eyeball.

Daring to open his unaffected eye, Bill made his displeasure known rather restrainedly. "Blagh..." Rather than outwardly complain to that effect, he chose something far less innoucous to comment on. "Of all the colors they had to pick, it had to be- _hot pink_?"

_Anyone who's snapped photos of such derogatory moments- enjoy them while you_ _**can** _ _._

Frowning, Finn handed off the mostly-empty can of silly string to a waiting prop aide, who scurried back with all the theatrical grace of a stooped-over mad scientist's underling. Presumably, they had gone to fetch a new one. The marble inside was rattling quite more loudly than before.

"Yep. For a joke this lame, it's beyond tedious at this point."

_You're telling me._

With a soft grunt, Jackson released his grip from over the collar. The youngest actor bounced once upon landing, but kept his feet with now-practiced ease. Then his attention turned to removing the flaky flecks of resin still sticking to his forearms.

That done, he turned to 'doctoring' the damage done to his taller colleague's face (who wordlessly stooped down to make said process easier; Jackson's small fingers were better at remedying this than any makeup brush had proven to be).

"I know. Can't they just- use CG string?"

Staring ahead, Bill sighed quietly through his nose, mindful to keep near-frozen. The strands being plucked off his cheek demanded it. "Practical string is cheaper."

"But, whatever they're saving in string, they'd just be spending on more facepaint with you."

_Not to mention the minutes of production time. Precious seconds are precious._

_How many setups will that make, now, three? For one shot?_

Par for the course on _ITerations_ , really.

"CG wouldn't look real enough. Or so the gremlins in financing tell us. Pft. What do financiers possibly know about what looks real?" Finn huffed, crossing his arms. "They're stuck in a room with too many numbers and no windows, most of the time. ...Yeah, I said that."

He smirked almost daringly, in contrast to the mild, mutually alarmed looks of Bill and Jackson.

The Swede blinked at him, affecting a head-tilt in lieu of a contact-lense-losing eyeroll. "Watch the wrong ear doesn't hear you saying something like that next time, Finn. You'd be far from the first actor who lost their job after lipping off once too often."

Not they were really in danger of that on a daily basis, not on this job.

But a little freely-given advice could save someone a lot of trouble somewhere down the line.

Finn's smirk only broadened and he shrugged.

"Well, hey, what can I say? Sometimes Richie can't help but get to me. You know all about that, don't you?"

Andy - knowingly or not - spared the three of them an awkward moment of misunderstanding in barking for Wolfhard's attention at that time.

"Finn. Back to your mark, please."

"Roger, boss!"

As if nothing had happened, he trotted back out the door.

Jackson donned a scowl first, wheeling around to glare up at his costar.

If glares could ever in some light look sympathetic, he had figured out a way.

"Hmph. That wasn't very nice of him, Bill."

At that Bill did chance an eyeroll. Hearing words alone couldn't hurt. And if they could, those hadn't really been meant to draw blood.

"Tch. It's okay. He wasn't being mean to... _be_ mean. Just to vent."

Hot and stuffy didn't begin to describe the conditions they were working in.

And while the costume magnified those effects threefold, he wasn't about to go whining about it. This was still the very same job he had agreed to a few months ago. And that hadn't been anyone else's hand save his own signing the contract.

Jackson had yet to appreciate those kinds of thoughts. Right now, all he saw was one costar proverbially jabbing at another, and maybe not in the most comradely fashion available.

"Well, he shouldn't do it around you. You're doing more work in a day than he does in an hour."

"Hey, _du_. What'd I just say about lipping off?"

He said it neutrally enough. But the sudden duck-down, close-the-gap move served to get his understudy's attention.

Jackson flinched and half-stepped back as if he had been dealt an actual nose-flick.

Which he hadn't, as Bill's gloved hands remained held at his sides.

The younger actor's eyes darted sheepishly before he tucked his chin to his collar.

"...Sorry."

"Finn can rant how he pleases. Doesn't mean we have to follow his lead."

"I guess..."

Reading the reluctant tone for what it was, Bill took his turn to smirk.

"Pst! ...Translation - he'S not our diRector. It's okaY."

Jackson scoffed, but suffered the unexpected hair-ruffling gesture with a tired smile that said volumes as to how annoyed he really wasn't at being joked with.

Finally.

"I knew what you meant, silly."


	27. Epilogue AU: Wake Up Call 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> First impressions, redux.
> 
> I don’t care if this is in any way cliché. I don’t.
> 
> Unbetaed.
> 
> Recommended OST: “As You Go” by Red

In short, no.

No, he didn't know what he was getting himself into, coming here.

But last time, It hadn't, either.

Not at first.

Or rather, he had... _kinda_ known, considered his alternatives all too briefly, and then dove in headfirst anyway.

Because why not?

Wasn't he ever prone to making impulsive, childish, ill-reviewed choices?

What came later was where he seemed clever and calculating. To a point.

And yet It still sometimes wondered how these dilemmas found him so quickly.

Or the other way around.

* * *

"C'mon. You can come closer than that."

Half hidden in the shadows, Pennywise winced. He had stood where he had thought Beverly wouldn't able to see him. Which of course she did, even with her back turned, so who was he trying to fool?

She was a new mother, wasn't she?

Eyes in the back of the head - check. They were standard issue.

Gloves wringing, her otherworldly visitor tried to take a step forward, but hesitated again, putting his foot back exactly where it had started. The reality of this long-awaited reunion, its dually fantastic and dreadful timing, that had set in for him. Maybe that was the cause of the creature's sudden onset of crippling reluctance.

No, forget maybe.

It definitely was.

He was as reluctant to voice it as comply with her suggestion.

"Closer... mmm... that- may noT be- "

"What? A good idea?" Beverly finished. She remained stooped over the bassinet, undissuaded by his nervous, halting stammers. "Hmph. It wouldn't be your first bad one, or mine, Pen."

Hearing this, Pennywise couldn't help a bemused frown.

_What does she mean by that?_

Yes, he could sense there were more than a few unsavory mental imprints stored away in her mind since last they had seen one another. Memories not worth remembering, and yet there. But if she was anything like her thirteen-year-old self had been, not admitting to the details, but that something bad _had_ happened-

"Give yourself some credit, please," she went on, casual as you like, despite the incoming lunacy of what was to ensue. And she tactfully refrained from reminding him, directly, of all the times It had had reason to tell her the same. "I wouldn't offer if I didn't think you could... handle it."

_...She thinks you've- you've already-_

_Why didn't you-_

As best he could, Pennywise slammed the proverbial door on the hunger pangs, who loitered like unhelpful wraiths on the edge of his awareness. His form's shoulders hunched, fingers twidling uselessly. Fidgeting was one of very many adopted human tells he knew he wouldn't be shaking anytime soon.

"Bevs, I-I don't- "

"Shhh, come here."

Again, he thought to refuse, to protest indignantly, to not to do as he was bid by one puny, insignificant mortal.

Briefly.

But, somehow, someway, he had never been able to refuse the word of Beverly Marsh. She had that kind of voice, that... _tone_ that could compel him to follow her every movement, every sound. Outwardly, she appeared calm and collected to the world, but inwardly, she was a slew of as many varied emotions as It had forms to assume.

Early on, he had recognized that inversion, and taken a shine to it, if you will.

She was at once his polar opposite and the one best suited to understand him, even if their chemistry didn't always show. Maybe there was a name for it, the behavioral commonality that some classes of human women just happened to share, but to It, knowing what it went by didn't matter. If any being could rival Georgie Denbrough in terms of sheer importance to It, it was her.

Yes, puppy love was a good way to put it.

And almost three decades later (never _mind_ how they parted), this was still very much the case.

He let his hands drop to his sides.

"If... if you'Re sure..."

At that, Beverly gave a gentle laugh. Finally finding an arrangement to her liking, she straightened up, swadled bundle held in both arms, and turned back to face him.

Her smile was just as radiant as always.

"I've never been more sure." She spared her still-slumbering infant a plainly-loving glance, before motioning with her clear blue eyes, beckoning her visitor over. "C'mere."

Slowly, as if he were treading on thin glass, he took a step closer.

Clad in her slightly-heavier bathrobe, donned over the hospital gown, Beverly repositioned her fleece-sleeved arms. One of her hands was already poised to pull a flap of blanket away from the newborn's face.

"It's okay. He doesn't bite."

_"You talking about him or the baby?"_

Stopping short, Pennywise couldn't help emitting a soft, albeit sorta-affectionate scoff, tossing his head like an affronted horse. Now there was an effectively-welcome distraction. The metaphorical voice in his head was as much imaginary as it was one-hundred percent Tozier.

And Beverly knew exactly what she was doing, verbally hazarding a joke like that.

"Beep- _beep_ , RiChie..."

Her smile stayed in place as she watched the clown shake off the very-real urge to laugh, then it morphed to a grin as she saw him step around to peer over her shoulder. She had grown some inches in the twenty-seven years since they parted, but It's favorite form still towered an impressive several inches above her own.

"Now... what do we hAve heeere?"

One sniff had been enough to tell the infant was a boy. One quick brush through his dozing mindscape revealed only the barest bits of instinctive information, no truly-long-lasting memories yet attained, given he was only a tender twelve hours old.

One actual look would make all the difference, though.

Glancing sideways and up, Beverly paused only a moment longer before peeling the fold of blanket back.

"Pen, this is Clark."

The baby in question continued to doze, completely contrary to whatever dramatic reveal his mother had intended. Already, around the top of his head, he sported a few strands of reddish locks, hair that had yet to grow in in full. His closed eyelids wrinkled only for a moment at the minor disturbance, freckled cheeks tensing to match, before both eased back into sleep's full embrace.

Peering down at him, Pennywise couldn't help another giggle at the thought of Beverly's tiring labor, and that this passive boy was the end result. From a distance, he had heard the calamity, but wisely opted to stay out of obvious detection range. He hadn't chanced having a proverbial hand in it, because he knew from experience that ordeal had been very far from the first fight Beverly had fought in her forty years.

Sixteen _hours_ , though.

Only to have the babe turn out so mellow.

_Someone didn't want to get out of bed._

_...I can almost relate._

The name rang a bell, also.

"Clark? Like... like Clark KeNt?"

_Straight out of the Superman comics the boys traded around._

A different kind of glint surfaced in Beverly's eye.

"His middle name," the redhead explained, with a cagey wink to boot. "First name's Robert."

. . .

. .

.

 _Floored_ was the appropriate word to describe the emotion the entity felt, yes.

Blinking, beyond befuddled to hear this possibility being confirmed as true, Pennywise belatedly thought to shut his gaping mouth. All the better to contain the thickening saliva inside for a deep, poignant swallow.

Humans tended to name their offspring after people of renoun, be it for personal reasons, or as a means of homage. It wasn't daft to that concept. And his human form's name _was_ generic enough to an unknowing ear, but...

"It- he... he. . . it _is_?"

Beverly's firstborn - named after him, though?

After everything he had done...

"It was Ben's idea."

Pennywise arched a striped eyebrow, expression slack.

Like _that_ certainly helped to take the edge off his new shock.

"Oh, waS it, now?"

"And mine, you dolt," Beverly leaned back, nuzzling the crown of her head underneath her friend's pale chin, making due with her arms full, again. "How could I say 'no'?"

"Hmm..." Frowning in thought, he turned his head to peer down at the dozing infant once again. "To that faCe, I gueSs... not..."

 _But still... a walking, talking reminder of_ me _, to nurture for the rest of your life?_

_...Didn't I hurt more than help, in the end?_

"He's got Daddy's looks, more than he does mine, except the freckles," Beverly explained, utterly at ease - more at ease than It could ever remember seeing her be. "Which is almost kinda... uncanny. You - that is, Rob - I always thought you sort of looked... alike, especially around the eyes."

Pennywise frowned. He wasn't sure that comparison was so much of a good thing.

But he wasn't going to refute it, either. He hadn't the will.

He hadn't shown up here just to spoil the afterglow of the proudest day of Beverly's life.

"Would you... would you like to hold him?"

_Ting!_

Then _again_ -

"Bevs, that's not- not- "

"Not what?"

Shaking anew, he backed up another step and swallowed thickly again. The damn spit was interfering with his voice.

Or that was what he would so like to blame his stuttering on.

"I- sh-should... go."

Turning around, Beverly almost glared at him, very deservedly, irises clear and crackling with blue fire. Her ever-present fierceness resurfaced in her look and her words. "Go where, Pen? You know if you come back, I'll ask you again."

For one fleeting moment, her mindscape opened its proverbial window, and a few strands of thought fled while they could.

And hearing those few were all it took.

_And if you stay away, you'll break my heart all over again._

_You already did that once, to all of us._

_Once was enough._

He stopped dead, hearing and _feeling_ the import of those words in equal measure. They couldn't get more direct.

How dare he be so impulsive, so inconsiderate?

Even if history was just gearing itself up for another repeat, Beverly had said he could handle it. Already he had gotten within breathing distance of the baby and not lost complete control of himself.

But... _holding_ him? Was that too much, too soon?

What about an alternative?

"I'm s-sorry. It... isn't that I wouLdn'T liKe to, Bevs. But..." Pennywise trailed off, feeling the ominous diverging of his eyes. With a sharp blink he reset them, straightening up. "Are you- are you certaIn?"

To his relief, she seemed to stop there, to try and appreciate the gravity of reality. Thoughtful pauses were part and parcel with regard to It. Unwelcome though the facts were, the knowledge of what her long-awaited friend's return was bore out one simple takeaway lesson: he was still dangerous.

In the wrong place, in the wrong context.

Offering up her newborn to be held would be like placing a kitten before a starving wolf and expecting the canine to be gentle upon grabbing it.

Not very practical.

With one last glance at him, she looked back to the vacant bed. "You're right, how about..." Slippers scraping softly against the floor, she crossed over to sit down on the edge of the mattress. "Would this wor- Oh!"

Before It could overthink the problem, teleporting back over to crouch beside her seemed like the best alternative. The baby's eyes were still closed, after all. Best they remained that way, for the time being, not to open at the sound of tinging bells.

Beverly still gave a little startled gasp at his abrupt change in location before recovering with a sighing giggle. "Oh, you _sneak_. You've gotta be careful, doing that around him."

"Sorry..."

_I hesitate any more, I may as well have not come at all._

_Doing more harm than good._

_Like always._

"Now, go on. Have a look."

_A look._

_A look is all you need._

_Not- no, keep your hands to yourse-_

_Okay, I'm done for._

Pennywise had to stifle an amused snort, slowly reaching in with one hand - as he had started to before he thought to stop himself. With one last hesitation, he turned his wrist over, using one fingertip to gently tickle the baby's cheek.

Again, the little set of features clenched up. Cooing dreamily in his sleep, the infant raised a folded fist to bat blindly at the new intrusion. Upon missing, he rubbed at his nose before stilling again.

"Has he been... asleep tHis whole time?"

"More or less," Beverly recounted, and not without a bit of jealousy. The strain still showed in her face, especially the wrinkles around her eyes. One nap hadn't been enough to undo all the damage. "A few feedings and some time with Ben, then he was out like a... a..."

"...LigHt?"

Frowning again, set upon by another set of long-repressed emotions, Pennywise leaned back, looking almost arch. He thought a second longer, then opted to sit down, crossing one leg over the other, foot hanging off the bed, and fold his arms around himself.

(There, now they couldn't stray away.)

_Lights._

_Like- what I almost-_

Before he could descend any further into those awful, bitter memories, Beverly turned in place, eyebrows furrowing as she took in his concerned mien. Freeing one arm, she reached out to pat the creature's shoulder. "Hey, _hey_ , don't- it's okay. You didn't- "

"I aLmost... kilLed you, Bevs. TwiCe," Pennywise scoffed, loudly enough to drown out the uncomfortable buzzing in his ears - something he had thought would disappate upon his disintegration in 1989. Glancing up at her, he looked away just as quickly. There they were, the little white flecks along the side of her neck, from the base to just below her left ear - like albino freckles, ones she hadn't been born with. "I-I won't- I can'T let- me foRget it."

"It's in the past, Pen," she retorted, firmly, but not unkindly. She gripped his shoulder, then, thinking twice, reached up, cradling his chin in her hand. He looked back, despite the hurt plainly mirrored in her face as much as his own. "We all remembered, what everything... came down to. But that doesn't mean we let it ruin all the good times we had. Or have continued to have."

He winced, but couldn't bear to look away again. "You don't... you foRgive me?"

_Really?_

_That... that easily?_

_No, not easily, you dolt._

_Nothing's ever easy with you involved._

"We had to, it... it was the only way to go on," Beverly explained, shrugging as she repositioned her cradled son, one-armed. The babe gave another fuss, but continued to doze. "It... it hurt like hell, but losing someone always does. For you, and for us."

"But afTer... after _everything_... you don't... resEnt it? Regret it? Knowing... me?" Painful as it was to talk about, he kept forming the words, anything to drown out the noise of his hitching, grating thoughts. "Bill once... t-toLd me, 'Don't- don't leave us with anything to r-regret.' And I never did... answeR him."

Beverly frowned, the same tortured frown he had seen on her all those years ago, in the cistern. Her eyes were glistening again, but those tears would be weak at best. Most of them had already been spent on the far happier first minutes of their reunion.

"You didn't have to, Pen. We all saw it for ourselves, how... sorry you were, in the end. You- we- no one could have known things would all come to pass- like that. Even you didn't, ultimately. But they did, and here we are. Can't we focus on the time we have now, instead?"

He couldn't find much energy to smile with, but her encouragement was enough to help him muster a weak attempt at one. Tilting his head, he nuzzled at the palm of her hand.

"You're right, as alwaYs. That mucH hasn't changed."

At that she rolled her eyes, gently pulling back. "Don't flatter me, Stripes. I've gotten plenty wrong since the last time I saw you."

He frowned, slowly raising an eyebrow.

"Dare I asK...?"

"Don't," she retorted, gently enough to make the refusal sound practically amicable. "You're spoiling the mood- oh. Clark, there you are. You wanna say hi? ...Yeah?"

At that, It almost thought to teleport away completely, while the baby's awakening inadvertantly provided him with some kind of distraction.

But again, that would only be causing more unnecessary pain, where all he had been _trying_ to do was wish Beverly well.

_...spoil the mood..._

_That's what I do._

_Unless I... don't._

_Choices have consequences, yes._

_You can't have good without the bad._

_If not, everything would be too... mundane? Plain?_

_Normal?_

_...normal'S- too boring for me..._

"Georgie's gonna be upSet."

Frowning, Beverly glanced up, eyebrow raised, taken aback by the sudden proclamation. "What?"

Pennywise blinked, irises yellowing, and grinned impishly. Taking one dab at the woman's memories while she was distracted - worth it.

No matter what punishment she would soon deal him in return.

"Didn't you want to naMe him Elmer at one time?"

As unladylike as before, Beverly gaped and spluttered futily in denial. Once again, she couldn't put any real fury into the words, too overcome by fond remembrance to feel anything else. "You- you- ohh!" With her free hand, she socked him in the arm. "I said _nothing_ of the kind."

_Ting._

"You diDn't have to. ...But you _thought_ about it, thOu- ow. _Heh-heyyy_."

Unabashed, she reached in to grab his cheek for a retaliatory pinch. It did nothing to stifle the fiendish, affectionate snickers that stuttered out as a result. Or stem the new stinging of his own eyes.

"Missed you, _too_ , you jerk."

But rather than sit there and take the abuse, It pulled free, only to dive back in to plant a kiss on her forehead.

Before _she_ could think to lean away.

"Heh. LikEwise, Bevs- _likewise_."

On a whim, the entity glanced down.

Eyelids finally parted, little Robert Hanscom peered up at him in abject wonder - with the same clear blue irises as his mother.

_Well, well. Look who else finally turned up._

Without waiting for his invitation, Pennywise reached around Beverly's arm, wiggling a fingertip under the baby's chin.

To which the infant fussed, pawing ineffectively at the tickling digit with tiny fists, and giggled back.

That was worth a triumphant smirk.

" _Hiya_ , Rob."

Beverly only scoffed quietly, wiping halfheartedly at the new moisture on her brow. Her mental window closed with only one loving sigh of a parting thought:

_Oh, what have I done?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part 2 of 3(?).


	28. Epilogue AU: Everything (by SHD)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Abby’s debut.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Collab-submission time! As written by SkyHighDisco of FF.Net. Edited/posted with permission.
> 
> For the purposes of this timeline (which runs parallel-dimension-like to those Abby-centric prompts I have written thus far), let's ignore King's First Law of Hibernation.
> 
> ...Why?
> 
> That answer is for another day.
> 
> SHD Notes: Michael Bublé – _Everything_. Come on, everyone knows that song... And I also didn't know how to name the chapter, so I needed a song, which I don't usually do. Sue me.
> 
> And then there's Train's _Marry Me_. Stan, you deserve everything good that you had and was ruined by that phone call, and if no one's gonna give it to you, then I will.

"All right, sit."

Pennywise would normally pull all the fuss of the world about being ordered around like a dog, or simply because of the need to whine about everything he was told to do, but for now he obediently did as Beverly asked without question. He situated himself decently on an an-outwards-turned kitchen chair, like a real human being, as instructed before. There was a shy, timid sound of bells, inaudible, perhaps, in the ears of gathered adults as Pennywise trembled with excitement.

Why, how could he help it? The excitement was already all over the place months prior, when Stan promised to bring the subject of the matter with the whole club present to meet. Everybody was ecstatic upon hearing the news and relentlessly pestered the Jewish man to introduce them already, to which he kept declining. In reality, it was because of his wife. Their grounded marriage had turned out all the more complete with the most wonderful gift both of them could give to each other. And from there, the marriage turned to family.

At first, Stanley Uris was skeptical and would've been an idiot if he wasn't. The _ˮPatty would kill me"_ excuse was getting old after George, holding the said thing gently in his arms, was the fourth to ask if the baby would ever meet Pennywise, but in the end, wasn't that just like Stan? Suspicion, calculation, especially regarding those who are close to his heart. Pennywise doubtlessly knew what was going on, and was perhaps as equally anxious about the whole ordeal, if not moreso than any of them. But in reviving the events from nearly three decades ago, Stan still carefully picked the rocks on the water's surface with which he wished to walk on.

However, after nearly a month's worth of debate, the decision finally fell through after Bill had insisted to take Patricia Uris to dinner, promising the baby would be fine and that Stan is a great man to rely on, and the author promised a good portion of embarrassing stories from her husband's early youth, bigger than the biggest portion of whatever dish they could offer in the menu. He was a writer, after all — stories were his profession.

She accepted - though reluctantly - with Stan's permission, of course, unaware that the visit to Stan's childhood home of Derry was more than intentional.

"Patty _is_ going to kill me," Pennywise's sharp ears caught the familiar voice of the Jewish boy, and for a second, the entity could virtually see that lanky, curly-haired child, stepping over the same threshold of 29 Neibolt Street with a backpack slung over his shoulder and a determination to get the schoolwork done in his eyes.

Now there was a man, fresh into the forties, his hair shorter and wavy, the same hazel-brown eyes, but warmer, and the crow's feet everpresent on his temples, expressive to the fullest when he smiled. He carried something in one hand.

"Cut it out," Beverly reprimanded mildly, striding over as Stan lifted the thing (a baby car seat, was it? That was what Georgie had called it) and their voices momentarily entwined to create an incomprehensible murmur while they fussed about the content of it. As much as his limbs wanted to carry him forward, Pennywise forced himself to sit still, even as the once-soft sound of bells grew more distinct when the shaking grew more intense.

He felt it: Beverly's calm, endeared energy, versus Stanley's ongoing skepticism, and the muddy thoughts about if a place like this was an ideal one to bring the baby to. And then, besides them, there was a new light; a new pulse, a completely fresh bubble of energy yet unbound by the written moral laws of humanity, simply existing on its basic natural needs. And detecting it made Pennywise produce an uncontrolled sound not meant for a human throat to make.

Beverly noticed, as ever. "All right, all _right_ , you big doofus. Here we come. God, you and your impatience..."

She stalked back to him, somehow managing to get his attention by grabbing his arms to freely shift them around. Demonstrating. Teaching him. Just like she'd used to. "Okay, hold your arms like this. No, no, leave this one down. There you go, like so."

Having shared her instructions in a short instance, she made to depart the scene just as Stan came over, holding a bundle in a blanket. "Hey, there, buddy," he spoke softly and quietly, grinning at the looking-about-to-explode Pennywise and shifting glances between the two. "I want you to meet someone."

Gently and slowly, as it was supposed to go, Stanley carefully handed the three-months-old package over into the clown's prepared arms, not moving away until he was fairly sure the clown had no way at all to drop her anyhow. Already half of his skeptical mind's thoughts had perished at the way Pennywise took the baby like he suddenly held the most delicate construction of dandelion seeds that were to perish and fly apart if he made the slightest sudden move.

"This is Abby."

_("Abigail, huh? You surely know how to keep to your Jewish standards, don't you, Stan the Man?" "Shut your door, Rich.")_

She fussed a little, being shifted into another person's hands, but instantly settled upon the soft touch of the fabric as she was huddled in the crook of the clown's arm, nested securely in the safety of the ruffles. Little, short-lived noises of protest made were silenced instantly when her dark eyes stared up at the painted face. The look in them was clever, calculating, just like her father's, now hypnotized by the two illuminated discs of blue. Instead of bursting out crying at the unfamiliar visage, even more non-human looking as it was, the baby made no sound, surprising them all.

Pennywise's wide eyes stared back, and the only way Stan could've described it was awe. Pure, pure awe. The blue orbs surveyed every inch of the tiny creature, shifting back up to meet her eyes again, and it seemed like the entity got hopelessly lost in them every time. While one of his arms was busy securing the little thing, who presumably weighted nothing to him, his right hand was, by all means, free, and he used it to slowly, slowly reach up toward the baby's face. The movement was ginger, hesitant. Like he couldn't decide what to touch and if to touch it at all. As if fearing that the tiny, helpless creature in his mighty powerful arms could crack and fall apart in pieces like snow balancing on a thin branch.

Instead, Abby bridged the distance for him. She reached up and grabbed onto an extended index finger with both of her tiny hands. She made a little indiscernible noise, flexing and tightening her grip a couple of times, as if testing the fabric material and deciding whether she liked it. In only a short while, she decided she did; the cracking, pulsing giggles from behind the pacifier confirmed so, and her cheekbones rose to make her eyes squint a little. Just like her Daddy's tended to. Those big brown eyes were smiling at him.

"Hiya, AbBY."

The baby made a satisfied gurgling sound behind its munching tool, pulling the finger forward against the pacifier's plastic, obviously intending to give it a gnaw to check if it was edible, forgetting there was an obstacle in the way. Undisturbed anyway, she shook the finger like it was a rattle, giggling again in satisfaction when she was rewarded with a distinctive sound of bells. Pennywise didn't seem to notice his corporeal form was used as an object of amusement: the look on his face stayed mesmerized. Nearly frozen, but that fact was dissipated at the look of his eyes still shifted restlessly, to observe her every move, ears pricked and straining to hear every last sound.

Stan, having retreated to sit on the dusty dresser against the wall on the other side of the room, watching everything, vaguely detected a body sitting down in the space to his left. "I think he fell in love."

He scoffed, not losing the sight of the scene for the sake of letting Beverly know he acknowledged her. "I don't blame him. You think I didn't?"

"I think you already got replaced."

"Please," he snorted the word out.

"And I pity the boys who ask her out."

"Oh, they'll need every inch of your pity." The look in Stan's eyes darkened mockingly, and he squinted. "Because after I'm done with them, they'll think better."

Beverly chuckled. "Who wouldn't? After all, she has a wonderful father, seven mad uncles and a super-protective, most powerful nanny in the universe behind her back."

"And a godmother."

Beverly paused, and her body automatically twitched in surprise. She blinked, confusion momentarily getting stuck in her eyes. All of a sudden, simultaneously, Stan seemed too embarrassed, shifting in the clutches of awkwardness. For once he surveyed the floor, getting momentarily distracted from the gorgeous sight before him. Just like that slip that might've been accidental, it had a forked-road of an answer which could most certainly brought the dreams of possibilities shattering down.

"Look, I'm s-sorry, if it's too much to ask I'll understa—"

"Stop talking, right now." She cut off his rare rambling, straightening up. Maybe the way her eyes bore into his temple was what made Stanley finally face her for real. "Stan, other than finding a real man, I couldn't be happier than to be her godmother."

For a second or two he stared at Beverly like she was the most wonderful woman he'd seen in his life, and Beverly found herself a little concerned for Patty's sake. But expectedly, Uris finally gave a relieved breath that was really meant to be a laugh and her friend was back, all doubts disappearing, if they were ever serious to begin with.

"Seven mad uncles and a fiery godmother," he slightly shook his head. "I almost envy her."

"It's everyone who should be envying _you_ , Stan."

Stanley stared back at her, letting the words settle in. True. Bill and Audra were married for some time, maybe even longer than him and Patty, but Fate had smiled at him once again, like the first time he met his about-to-be wife and from there invisible ribbons had twirled around the pair, creating a messy knot of a bond that wouldn't let them untangle ever again. It was firmer than the both of them, and that was all they needed. That was all it took for them to create a fate of their own.

Yes. If Beverly asked him right now – if anyone asked him – if he was happy, he wouldn't have debated about an answer in the slightest.

An overjoyed squeal made them turn forward. Pennywise was grinning now, actively wiggling his long fingers before the baby's face. Stan was absolutely sure the big red balloon tied with a string around her wrist, making her giggle in wonderous glee, hadn't been there before. She waved her tiny arms for the effect, ecstatic, making the round red thing bounce in the air, and shrieked in delight, then clapped.

Stan scoffed, affectionately this time. "Showoff."

Beverly chuckled, then took his hand and leaned her head against his shoulder, red hair sprawling like a waterfall down his back. "You should be proud of yourself, Stan. She's gonna be the safest baby in the world."

Watching Pennywise grinning and cackling that high-pitched clown laugh at having his red nose caught under the mercy of a tiny, chubby hand, finally releasing him from his catatonic prison, Stan couldn't help but agree.

There was no safer place in this whole wide world for his baby to be at this moment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Check out SkyHighDisco on FF.Net if you’d like to see more of her fantastic works. :3


	29. Epilogue AU: Full Circle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There are some things you never outgrow, Officer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Recommended OST: "Walking In My Shoes" by Depeche Mode
> 
> Same ITerations epilogue AU as "Wake Up Call".

Mike Hanlon wasn't the only one who stayed behind.

Victor Criss hadn't planned to. Things had simply worked out that way. For some, the world outside Derry was all too alluring, too tempting to escape into, to get lost in and pretend their wretched little hometown didn't exist in any other form greater than a spot on a map.

Like they had come from nowhere, to find something better.

Never mind that they could make due with what they had right where they always _were_.

While the thought was always there, practically engraved in the back of the man's mind, he had considered his list of possibilities, and settled for the path of least resistance - that much which he didn't make for himself, that is. Where most of the reformed bully's classmates grew up to move away at their first opportunity, staying behind was comparatively easier for him.

It was. What were the odds he would see most of them again? Dollars to doughnuts the class' upper rungs would sooner book a venue in Haven or Portland to host their ten-year high school reunion, and all the ones to follow, rather than ever set foot in Derry again. And sure enough, by the early 2000s Criss' ear caught word of one such shindig being in the works, and he quietly set aside time off work to attend.

It wasn't like there would be any fewer domestic disturbances to attend to when he got back.

His reception there was much the same as it had been those last few years of high school: look, guys, here comes the noncommital pariah, the only survivor of a once-reputabable group of lowlifes who were responsible for more than their fair share of social upsets and public embarassments.

He may not have always been the one to start them, but he had certainly had a hand in most.

Details of which weren't important, no more to them than they were to himself. He went through most days trying to put them out of his mind, trying in vain to focus on the few good times had in his youth.

The only real dismay Victor felt was in not finding any of the Losers among the reunion attendees.

But then, who was he kidding? Besides being two years his junior, most of them - his for-better-for-worse victims-turned-friends - had left town and gone on to be wildly successful. It wasn't that they looked down their noses at the ten-year-reunion with any kind of snide bitterness.

Simply put, they had better lives to live now, ones that didn't really warrant him being a part of, and he couldn't fault them there.

In the end, they had all proven to be far more ambitious than he, far more determined to find something better.

Or maybe that was the long-repressed repentance talking.

Suffice it to say, following the lukewarm result of this lackluster venture twenty-seven-year-old Victor motored on back to Derry with the intent to continue his simple-yet-somehow-fulfilling career. He certainly hadn't gone through grade school thinking he wanted to be a policeman in this small-minded town. And granted, he wasn't looking to eventually make top dog in that line of work.

But for as long as the department existed in this backwoods place, she had to produce one or two good sons of the law somewhere along the way.

Someone had to take the oath to keep the peace, and mean it.

Against all odds.

And by and large, this went along fairly swimmingly.

Until the latter half of 2016, that is.

* * *

"Y'know... when I said 'he could ride along, maybe' I didn't... mean _literally_."

Anyone looking in through the cruiser's rolled-up, passenger-side window might have thought he had finally cracked. More puzzling was that the soft-spoken, clean-shaven, rugged-looking man didn't _look_ outwardly disturbed. At the moment, he only appeared a tad disgruntled, frowning with dark, furrowed brows into the rearview mirror as he was, jaw set.

Then you would look down and see the receiver to dispatch was still hanging in its cradle on the dashboard.

...You talking to yourself again, Vic?

Lord knows you've spent many a night on the job doing that. Twenty plus years in, and you're still just a petty night patrolman (through no fault of anyone's but your own). Now, yes, that would give anyone cause to hold monologues within the loneliness of their black-and-white cruiser between answering what sparse calls came down the wire now and then.

And to do it consistently, without the aid of a drink, even more impressive.

A reflection of his dark-irised eyes narrowed in the mirror's glass. His hand tightened on the top of the steering wheel, thinking for a second back to his weeks of training, the months of classes he took so long ago. Today, as it was now, it was impossible to not compare to the countless episodes of classic TV police dramas. There was so much similar and - at the same time - so much wrong with how those in his profession were regarded.

By various demographics, over the years.

_Dragnet. Kojak. Miami Vice. Hill Street Blues. NYPD Blue. Law & Order. Castle. Blue Bloods._

_To name a few._

_Please. This isn't TV. The tropes are still there, they just evolved as time has gone on._

_Even as law enforcement itself has come a long way in that regard._

_That said..._

"It doesn't matter if the cameras can see you, or not," Victor went on, seemingly holding his one-sided conversation with perfect ease (when, in truth, his insides were already knotted up past the point of untying). "Never mind that the county budget is so tight my car's one of many on a waiting list to have her's replaced. When I'm on the clock, I'd rather it go without _incident_."

_But... aren't incidents part of your job description?_

_And responding to them on short notice?_

Right now, the look on his unwanted visitor's face - with its petulant scowl and raised left eyebrow - seemed to scream the same question. But out of practiced restraint or simple politeness, to not make such a childish retort out of the otherwise-serious statement, It held off on commenting.

...For all of ten seconds.

"But areN't you happy to see me, VicksTer?"

The officer bristled, sharply averting his eyes, feeling an instant tingle of annoyance creep up the back of his neck. He flattened himself against the driver's seat, staring with newfound determination out the dusty windshield, trying to retrain his focus on the night outside.

Which he did, in short order.

This storage complex's exterior fence wasn't gonna watch itself.

Or, it could - with the aid of its closed-circuit surveilance system. But for the owner, that hadn't proved adequete. They had already endured their fair share of vandalism-related events lately, ranging from simple graffiting to burglary, and someone had to take the unenviable job of lookout.

 _Some unlucky sap, in other words_ , was whispered around the station.

Victor had that in his pedigree. Because apparently only saps helped old ladies across the street, returned sniffling kids to their parents along the vast expanse of storefront sidewalks, or rounded up the occasional wayward drunk while off duty.

He had overheard one such grumble about these broken-into units, the latest in a string of supposedly-connected robberies working their way from county to county, and put up his hand.

He could stomach being the squad's resident overcompensator far easier than being imbued with any kind of affectionate nickname as bestowed by this... phantom from his childhood, which had (without so much as a giggle of warning) spontaneously materialized in the back seat of his squad car.

Right out of thin air.

More infruriating was that he was equal parts flabbergasted and bewilderingly happy to see the ghost.

For the moment, the former feeling was winning the majority vote.

"Tch." Against his better judgment, Victor glanced back again. "I don't answer to dumb nicknames."

Hands in his lap, the clown's frown eased, eyebrow lowering it to match its sibling.

Also known as the look of innocent befuddlement that still sometimes graced George Denbrough's visage.

"But... you juST dId."

"Anything that came out of my mouth just now would constitute a response, of _some_ kind. So, ergo, that's kind of a weak counterargument to begin with on your part."

Eventually, Pennywise managed an indignant splutter of a reply:

"Yeah? Well. If it's so- weaK... hmph! It stiLl got you to talk."

Victor tipped his head against the backrest again, staring at the dingy, spotty-fabricked ceiling some precious few inches above his eyes. A basketball player folded into the confines of a jack-in-the-box, that's how he felt some days, very cramped and therefore a touch moody.

Hunched over like he was, resembling a silver-suited chimpanzee, the alien in his backseat was probably - make that _definitely_ \- picking up on the same vibes.

"Yes. Because it's rude to not reply when someone's being direct with you, _sir_. Like Georgie's said a thousand times, and counting."

"Heh. It's also rude to be sNide about your reply. Not very- becoMing, is it, Officer Vickster?"

_Deadsense._

_Yep. Mike warned me about that._

_"Stick a pin in the topic before he gets carried away. Odds are, once it happens, you won't get him to stop chasing his tail. Or be able to hold on to your momentary sanity, for that matter."_

Officer Criss valued his well-honed peace of mind, moreso than most else of the material possessions in his life, which had come to include the idea of a wife and kids (to the silent disappointment of any similarly aged bachelorettes around the county, he was sure; a few times he had taken note of the longing stare of woman here and there, oggling his uniformed self from across the way, only for him to turn back to his work and silently rebuff the attention; dames were more trouble than they were reward in his book).

He needed and cherished every last shred of focus he had left. Dealing with the petty-minded public and soothing their troubles, earning and holding onto their trust and thereby ensuring their continued goodwill, inch by painful inch, had become his life's work. And for that he needed a clear head with which to go about his duties.

Then It just _had_ to wake up again.

History just _had_ to repeat herself.

A reiteration of events twenty-seven-years hence, if you will.

"Hmph. Meaning, we still can't win with you, can we?"

"NoPe."

_In more ways than one._

Silence reigned for another few minutes before a rustle of fabric chased it away.

"...No. That waSn't me."

Blinking, Victor glanced back once more.

"What? What wasn't?"

Without breaking eye contact, Pennywise gestured in the vague direction of Derry, some ten minutes to their east.

" _The_ one- that one."

_What? The call yesterday? The... newest one on the slab?_

Eyes closed, Victor glanced away and breathed deep, praying for patience. Focus.

Damn It. He couldn't decide between being assured or feeling ever more suspicious at those words. Yes, the entity's reappearance signified more than just a temporary hiccup to overcome in the course of his night watch.

But did he really feel the need to bring the topic up was necessary?

"I didn't say it was, Pennywise."

"You thought it might bE."

Criss sighed. His exhale was almost a growl to match. " _God_ , man, don't you know what it is to tune out what you don't want to hear?" He twisted around in place, half-glaring over his blue-clad shoulder. "You show up unannounced here, and then try to you hold it against me for thinking a recent rash of- of _problems_ might or might _not_ have anything to do with you?"

_Somehow, someway, they always do._

_You're gonna go on into eternity toiling and tormenting yourself about it?_

_Fine. That's your call._

_But eternity need not include right now._

_I doubt you turned up on Bev's hospital bed downright asking her to start guilt-tripping you._

_Why do you have to be that way with me?_

And just how the middle-aged man remembered, Pennywise seemed to pause and consider the nonverbal as much as the words thrown at him, no matter how they were said. His gaze dropped and angled away.

"Hmph. You'Vvve got a point."

_Ting._

Without ceremony, an arm shot out, leveling itself across the policeman's shoulder like the barrel of a rifle.

Victor flinched, squinting at what the gloved hand held.

Even in the near dark, he recognized the packaging's silver highlights.

_A Hershey bar?_

Despite himself, he couldn't help an amused snort, dramatically clapping a hand over his eyes. The change in the air betwen them, and subject therefore, was so abrupt.

Way to avert the conversation, indeed.

"Can't. That might constitute a police bribe."

"A bribe? To turn your eye from wHat?" Pennywise asked. Briefly, his gaze and attention both seemed to avert outside - not toward the storage units, but nighttime forests beyond. "...Nooo. I don'T think your- hoodlums are gonNa bite tonight."

"You know this for a fact, Jack?" Victor quipped, feeling a bit easier for making it, like settling into an old, if kinda-unwelcome, familiarity - a strange imitation of one he had underestimated just how much he had latently missed. "All you've got right now is... suppositional evidence. You think just because my car's sitting here in plain view outside the gate, they're gonna take one look and say, 'nah, some other night'?"

Eyes affixed, Pennywise's head tilted to one side like a dog's - one who had heard a peculiar sound and didn't know what to make of it.

Such a novice, he was. Still.

Pretending or not.

Slowly, his arm retracted.

"You know otherwiSe?"

"I do. This is my fifth stakeout, in three nights. Haven't been here the last two, and the property owner's had no trouble. You pull three in a row, then pop up again once they assume you've given up the chase."

"...That woRks?"

"Pft. We're not dealing with criminal geniuses here. I know my tactics, and this one has netted more than a few lockpickers mid-break-in."

"All by yoursElf?"

Scoffing, Victor picked up the receiver by means of demonstration. "One call, and I've got two backups less than five minutes away."

_If not closer._

"Oh." Pennywise blinked once, letting the bigger picture settle into place. Then he started up again: "...What if they're on a nap breAk?"

Victor felt his lips twist in a smile that was not quite a smirk. He supposed he should feel irritated by the line of inquiry. But again, in a strange way, he had missed hearing it, however briefly they may have known one another in 1989. George Denbrough had carried that torch on long after August came and went.

Remembering to miss something.

There was an odd one to find yourself doing.

"Jesus. You could go on forever with these questions."

_Like a regular grade schooler._

Perhaps he sounded a bit too harsh in saying so.

It was no secret around the station the rookies hated the thought of being talked down to by Criss in such a way. He was firm, but fair, didn't let anything slide. And that included calling his understudies out on their habits, unconscious quirk and not.

Pennywise's upswept locks and neck ruffle drooped in time with his woeful expression. "And you'd rathEr I didn't."

Sighing, albeit more lightly than before, Victor turned away from the meek-seeming sight, belatedly thinking to fold his arms across his chest.

No. He needn't continue to remain a hardass about this. Why not make something pleasant out of the encounter, just a _bit_ , instead of staying so rigid and aloof?

Lord knew the Losers were probably dealing with much the same kinds of mixed feelings. Mike summoning them back to Derry - that much was anticipated. Victor had known of the encroaching date, much in the same way he had heard of his impending high school reunion. He had stood back from this rendezvous in much the same fashion, thinking his presence was almost unwelcome among the circle of eight.

Until a phone call from Richie Tozier, staying at the Town House with the rest as he was, came through.

_Guess who's back, Blondie?_

_Yep! And he's looking for you as much as the rest of us._

And half in jest, half somehow-meaning it, the older man had suggested the aforementioned ghost come find him on watch, to sit in on the stakeout.

Of course It had heard the conversation in full, and jumped at the chance to reconnect with his fellow outcast.

Stifling another derisive chuckle, to think he had ever been displeased that the scenario had played out exactly so, Criss sat back in his seat, reaching over his shoulder with open, upturned fingers. His riveted eyes never left the diveway. Nowadays, the blonde locks he once sported were kept cropped far shorter, alomst in a crewcut, per regulation. And mostly because he didn't need to waste time trying to see around them.

Yes, he could use a distraction to help tick down the minutes until the repeat trespassers showed up again, with their padlock cutters and pickup trucks at the ready.

_You'd rather he bug out?_

No.

Not really.

"Depends... Stripes. That candy bar still on offer?"

 _Ti-ting_.

Plastic packaging landed in the officer's hardened palm with a soft thud.

"Ask away."

* * *

_"Police! Freeze!"_

"Ha, fat cha- ahh! Shit!"

Sprinting for the fence, at the far side of the lot, the second suspect made the mistake of turning to try and gloat mid-escape. His partner in crime had had the right idea, to jump at the sound of an artifically-amplified bark, and promptly took off at the first _whoop_ of a siren. Clouds of dust still hung in the beams of the headlights where the perp's racing feet had passed by moments before. He shimmied to the top of the barbed-wire fence, yanked himself over with leather gloves, and was gone.

(Leaving his slower _compadre_ to promptly sell him out by the following morning.)

Nosing the cruiser's front end around a garage corner, the better to see their surroundings by, Victor opened his door to step out, arms positioned over the window, gun drawn and aimed.

"Your final warning!"

Behind him, the cruiser's rear passenger door banged open and thumped shut, jostled as it had been moments earlier by the animal suddenly escaping from inside.

The same hand that had opened it morphed into a canine's paw to match the other three, and for a precious few minutes, Officer Criss wasn't completely alone in his task of apprehending the criminals mid-burglary.

Snarling, It whisked ahead of the trailing black-and-white, moving faster than any fully-grown Belgian Malinois (the very same breed a younger Criss once daydreamed about owning) ought to. The slower of the two fleeing men didn't turn to see the dog's unusually-bright off-white coat, flashing through the yellow high beams directly toward him, much less notice the amberish red mask adorning its snout, framing amber-yellow eyes.

He scarcely noticed the jittery, jagged shadow that raced forth, merging with his own on the ground ahead. By the time his ankle was violently yanked out from underneath him, he had his mind on other matters.

And when the canine lookalike grabbed his pants by the shin and began savaging it between his teeth, tearing and yanking and growling, the thrashing burglar had already quailed.

With leg wrenched back, his own momentum pitched him forward into a flailing heap.

" _Owmph_! N-no, p-ple- ow! Ah-gh! Agh! Okay, st-op-p! I-I gi-give! Ahow!"

Skirting around the sedan's open door, Victor didn't stop to let himself ponder the ludicrousness of this assist, or balk at the blood being drawn. He thought only briefly of his attack in the creek some three decades earlier, where it had been him pinned under the same monster's teeth. Occasionally, he woke from an ever-more-rare nightmare of that evening, only to remind himself he had lived through it, learned from it.

The monster then had spared him because (contrary to the very definition of 'monster') It had listened in another way to Ben Hanscom.

Just like tonight, It was listening again.

He had gone from honorary sheepdog to a quite literal police dog. This had been as much the officer's idea as it was not, through making idle conversation. Victor remembered mentioning the Derry Police Department still had no officially-standing K-9 unit, and to his complete unsurprise this seemed to directly inspire the entity's latest gambit. Again, an ever-more-minimalized budget had hurt the force there, too.

Just this once, the shapeshifter could help make up for that shortcoming.

Victor couldn't help smiling to himself. It was nice to know he had _some_ backup here and now, while his fellow night watchmen - snoozing slumped over their steering wheels, unable to hear or simply ignoring his calls for assistance - came back to the land of the living.

"Pen, stop."

The curt command flew out on its own, with a bizarrely natural ease, as if he had said it a thousand times already. With one last chomp and bark, It sidestepped away. Taking a knee beside the thrashing man, Victor holstered his gun, caught one, then both tattooed wrists. He cinched them into place behind the man's back with a pair of cuffs.

Before he could stand, to wrench the perp to his feet, or say much else, the still-capering dog beside him gave a high whine.

Against his better judgment (for what did it know anyway), Victor paid his improvised partner a fleeting glance.

What? What was wrong no-

His answer took the form of a slobbery series of frothy licks to the face, eyes, nose, and all. Somewhere beyond that, he thought he glimpsed an avidly-wagging tail. The whining turned to short, earnest, puppy-like whimpers.

And Victor couldn't help a very unprofessional-sounding laugh at the attack he found himself under all over again.

For very different reasons.

With his free hand he spared his friend a welcoming scratch behind the pinned-back ears.

_Yeah, okay, okay. Missed you, too, buddy._


	30. Epilogue AU: A Wee Bit Employed (by SHD)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Need a lift, Abs?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another one by SkyHighDisco. Edited/posted with permission.

"Up and down, up and down, up and down..."

It had quickly became her before-bed mantra, as per Eddie's instructions, and the child still didn't understand why Richie found it so funny. _(ˮYou're gonna brainwash this one, too, Eds?" ˮIf I wanted to hear from an asshole, I'd fart." ˮWhoops! Beep-beep, Spaghetti!")_ But then again, both of her uncles seemed to constantly have the need to pick at each other on daily basis, and Rich had said that it has been going on for far longer than the amount of her age times ten.

Abby didn't know how much time that was, but she did know she was three - three and three fourths.

One has funny thoughts while brushing their teeth, but in all honesty, was there anything else to do during that period except think?

Giving the back of her minty-toothpaste-glistening teeth some final bit of attention with the tiny green toothbrush (the latest gift from Mike), she looked up at the waiting basin.

There was always the same problem designed around various situations when you were three years old: height. The first time she realized this, it had caused a tantrum where she demanded to grow up that very instant, but after a cup of milk and a few of Mommy's comforting words, her brain had reached the conclusion itself; she had to wait that process out.

Until then, you had to rely on adults.

That didn't stop her from frowning up at the sink like it was a mean giant from one of Dr. Seuss' books. Her general nerve was unbelievable. Her Daddy said she was the same as Aunt Bev. Which was a fat lie, Abby knew that. Aunt Bev had the most beautiful red hair in the world, and the brightest blue eyes that would always make Uncle Ben freeze for a few seconds every time he'd look at her, as well as the widest beaming smile.

Abby was nothing like her: her eyes were dark, and her hair wasn't nearly as long, just reaching her shoulders, and it was brown and wavy, like Mommy's. There was nothing impressive about that.

Speaking of which...

"Daddy, I'm ready!"

She reached for the red plastic cup (now that was a funny story: nobody knew where it came from, because everybody claimed they didn't buy it. Patty just assumed Stan was lying, but Abby could tell he had a thought, because he had that certain look on his face which was usually only reserved for one of Eddie and Rich's pointless banter episodes), and paused.

There were no footsteps in the hallway, or climbing up the stairs. The TV was making the noise down in the living room, but no one was coming.

She tried again. "Daddy!"

This time it sounded more like _''ha-hee''_ since spit had started mixing up with a strong taste of the toothpaste, filling her mouth almost to capacity. Where was water going to fit, then? How is she going to wash it out? Once she sees him, oh, she'll give Daddy a piece of her mind.

There was no time to waste now, though.

With an exasperated sigh Aunt Bev would surely be proud of, Abby tensed, threw her head backwards to keep the contents of her mouth from spilling over, and gave her next cry all she had: "Penny!"

To keep herself occupied for those four seconds of silence she had to wait, Abby reached over to sip some more of the previously readied water from the cup. And then she waited, patiently.

There was a clang against the tub's hard material. Then one more and a couple of soft thuds, accompanied by the familiar shuffling of clothes. Then with a sharp sound of the bath curtains moving to one side only to reveal a looming clown figure clad in off-white with a touch of red.

Wordlessly, Pennywise shook out his limbs, gifting the relative silence of the bathroom with the sweet sound of chimes. He stepped out of the tub, walked over in no more than one and a half strides, and caught the kid under the armpits, lifting her up effortlessly over the sink.

Finally, she spit the mixture out, with no small measure of inward relief, held securely in place by the gloved arms. Then she looked up into the mirror, a broad white grin adorning her face. "Thank you very much."

"Just doing my job," Pennywise grinned back.


	31. Epilogue AU: One For Sorrow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now that they’ve been introduced, good luck getting rid of this bird.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because I (heart) magpies.
> 
> Search for them on YouTube. They can be surprisingly cuddly.

The Uris household was the only one on its block without pets. Most of their neighbors were cat people, much to Stanley Uris' chagrin. More than once he had come across a tuft of disembodied feathers littering the sidewalk of their front yard, a leftover bird leg, or the occasional bit of plummaged flesh - evidence of a sloppy kill.

Alighting on the open windowsill, some hours after darkness had already fallen, It paused briefly to consider the evidence, and formulate a plan, a means to pay back whatever damage he might be on the verge of causing. He had some ideas as to how to begin detering the pesky felines from slinking onto the property. A few retaliatory divebomb attacks by a particularly invasive corvid ought to do the trick.

Bye bye, kitties.

It was as good as he could do, short of making hairy appetizers of the cats. But that wouldn't endear the Urises to their fellow Atlantans, so best not.

Didn't matter right now, anyway. He wasn't here on business.

While excellent, adaptive imitators, magpies weren't known for their physical flexibility. Technically, their bones were like any other birds - too light and brittle to allow for one to squeeze through the narrow gap beneath a partially-open window.

_Yep, he left it open. Just- far- eeenough for me to- there!_

Wings hunched at the shoulders, It flattened himself against the ledge nevertheless, and scooted forward. _("Ha! Told ya you were fat." "ShuT it, TrashmoUth!"_ ) Black talons made a delicate scrabbling sound against the immaculate wood, feathers rustling as they were pressed and disheveled, and with a soft, huffy-sounding _awk_ the avian mimic pulled himself the rest of the way inside.

There was his target, less than a few feet from said open window.

_Tight squeeze for a tight timeframe. You weren't kidding, Stan._

_"For now, nighttime visits only, please. You don't want Patty cottoning on that you're starting to haunt our house, trust me. She's not one to hide things from for very long, not even on matters of the supernatural."_

With a dubious, jutting frown, Pennywise had responded to this with only a slow, mocking salute of acknowledgment. _Roger that, Captain?_

Maybe eagerness would override his caution again. But could Stanley really blame the entity for feeling adventurous, or undissuaded, or ambitious, in more ways than one?

What did It know?

Turns out there _was_ a whole world outside of Derry, Maine after all.

And that said world now included the likes of Abigail Uris, even better!

Not only was there the potential for making a new friend, one who held the undisputed record the youngest It had yet made, but there was a chance for him to help - help in ways he hadn't been able to twenty-seven years hence.

Like soothing bouts of insomnia, which the four-month-old girl had apparently started to suffer from. She wasn't a big crier, or harbored a near-constant need to be held, as some babies did. But she wasn't resting as soundly as one her age ought to. The stress of the thought was keeping Stan and Patty awake more than any racket their daughter may have caused.

As tonight would have it, the trend was continuing.

Ebony beak clacking once, the shapeshifter ducked and sprang forward, taking a fluttering hop to perch on the crib's high, narrow edge. He leaned in, squinting at the swaddled form lying atop the mattress. Given how warm a September night it was outside, she was clad in a green, white-lace-edged onesie, which had only been covered with a light blanket. The upper edge was grasped in both her little hands, held bunched up beneath her chin.

Her eyes were closed, but the restless twitching of her eyelids said that she hadn't dozed off. Not completely. Little noises of discomfort were still eeking their way out from between her pursed lips.

The magpie lookalike clacked his beak again, tilting his head. Then he chanced a calculated jump down onto the blanket, beside the quietly-fussing babe.

 _Abby?_ _...Abs?_

A few gentle pokes to her roiling mind weren't enough. Her eyes stayed pressed shut, face turned away.

But her brow furrowed, cheeks tightening. She hadn't heard her name with her own ears after all.

And what was the new barely-there pressure in the crib beside her?

It scoffed, a little sharp sneeze of discontent, tail and neck feathers puffing out before settling down. Glancing around, considering the dark room beyond the bars of their 'cage', he thought twice of speaking more. Maybe pestering her into full wakefulness wasn't the best tactic here. More likely she'd open her eyes to a frightful, jagged shadow, looming over her.

No. When one was her age, everything tended to look big and scary when it wasn't recognizable. Pennywise supposed he had lucked out, meeting her a few weeks ago in Derry, that curiousity had overwhelmed the girl's instinctual fear of the unknown. She hadn't burst out crying at being handed over to him, and as things yet stood, he intended to make sure she never would have reason to be afraid.

Never. He had to have learned something from 1989 after all.

Whatever cause the Losers had to be proud of It nowadays, to be glad they continued to regard one another as friends, he intended to keep the trend going from 2016 onward.

Cosmos be damned.

It glanced around again, cocking his head at the stars-and-moon themed mobile dangling above them. A light breeze from the window slowly stirred the yellow symbols around and around. He let his gaze linger there before looking elsewhere. There was a dresser nearby, pressed against the wall beside the crib. Half of a baby monitor setup sat atop it, red light glowing.

One way. Stan and Patty would hear if Abby started to wail.

Mindful not to trod directly upon the blanket, he sidestepped around the narrow space, wings flicking out, then in, considering his options carefully. He couldn't well assume full, familiar form here in such a small space. But that was proving to be the most immediate problem he could see.

He blinked, eyes winking from solid black to blue.

He figured it out, what was missing.

_No stuffed animals, Abs? ...Really?_

_What's a crib without a teddy bear?_

"Not particularly comforting" was the answer to that question.

It sneezed a second time, sparing a moment to scratch and preen before unceremoniously flopping down atop the blanket, scooting forward to nestle in alongside Abby's tensed-up shoulder. When she failed to stir or open her eyes, he hesitated one last moment, then laid his beaked chin atop her collarbone, cooing softly.

Her heartbeat spiked only for a second as her brown eyes sleepily blinked open. Her face twisted toward him, but seeing a familiar cerulean orb there - glowing blue against all the night around them - did the trick. Any flicker of fear she felt was crushed by a newfound joy.

Pushing the cover aside, Abby freed one of her hands with a babbling giggle, reaching over the covers to clumsily pet the magpie between the eyes.

Warbling in lieu of laughing, It tried not to move too much, feeling her inqusitive fingers start grasping along the top, rigid edge of his beak. He only angled its tip away, out of range of said fingers. His narrow claws remained safely sheathed underneath his white-collared torso.

Eventually the baby's hand ventured far enough back to stroke the back of his head, pawing and mussing the blue-black plummage hopelessly out of disarray.

Kicking her feet in delight, Abby turned over and reached out with both hands, encasing her visitor in a clumsy hug. She nuzzled against his feathers until her laughter petered out, falling back to sleep moments later.

It let the corners of his beak bend upward in an unseen smile.

No. A bird stand-in wouldn't do past tonight.

Next time, no sharp edges.

But at least this form had some fluffiness to offer.

* * *

_Ten for a bird, you must not miss..._


	32. Epilogue AU: Foreshocks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Once or twice is fine, Abby.
> 
> More than twice is a recurring pattern.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little prequel prompt to SkyHighDisco’s upcoming “Tremors”.
> 
> No spoilers. Just hints.

Perched as her friend was atop the chainlink fence, directly above the sign, Abby couldn't help a giggle once she drew close enough to read it for herself:

_Don't Feed The Birds_

Catching her smile, the magpie lookalike snapped his beak, mirroring said giggle - with an almost-eerie precision - before launching off to circle the park from above. Non-indigenous though his current form was, only Abby's eyes followed his flight path. To the uninformed eye, what was one more bird taking to the sky?

Hiding in plain sight at its finest.

The sign was pretty redundant, too. Like attracting pesky pigeons was the worst kind of company this place could potentially invite in. In any case, that wasn't what the Atlantan citizens tended to patronize it for.

Granted, it was one of the smaller, more well-kempt parks in the city, and was intended to remain as such. Even the trash cans-slash-recycling recepticles had a peculiar kind of sparkle to them. Fringed by lavish, flowery gardens, the centerpiece was a circular grove of weeping willows, overshadowing a three-tiered marble fountain ringed by ornate stone benches. It was a popular spot for those locals craving a less raucous outdoor setting to read, converse, and generally escape the din of their urban surroundings.

Holding Mommy's hand the whole way there, Abby nodded at being told to "not go very far" and accepted the shoulder-strapped bookbag. She had her own stories to catch up on while Patricia rendezvoused with two co-workers to synchronize their monthly audiobook progress. Facing the fountain, their animated chatter left precious little room for Abby to join in.

Which was fine. The four-year-old had her own company to keep, too.

* * *

"...It doesn't work if you're wearing those."

"ReaLly?"

"Really."

"...Fine. Then you tuRn the page."

"It's not turning a page. It's called- _swiping_. See?"

"Swi... No. That's what it mEans to sTeal something."

"Well, okay. But it can mean this, too- "

"Abigail..."

Both the girl and her would-be reading partner froze, hearing Patty call from where she sat, unseen from behind a low-cut hedge. Exchanging a tense look, Abby tentatively answered back: "Y-yes, Mommy?"

"Just making sure you're still there."

When nothing more came of it, Abby dared to breathe out. Good, they were still safe. It wasn't enough that she was holding a conversation with one peculiarly-still, empty-looking pocket of air. For a second, she had worried _she_ had been seen.

She was potentially breaking a rule. Ladies didn't lie flat on their stomachs in the grass, propped up on their elbows, while reading.

And this was one of her nicer dresses.

But Daddy said you could read in whatever position you found comfortable. From whatever angle, too. And their home's persistantly-haunting specter seemed to second the notion.

Heck, Abby had glanced up moments ago to see her friend, the not-magpie, hanging upside-down from a branch, fruit-bat style, and looking oddly comfortable doing so. Again, something no normal bird would go out of their way to do. Checking that the coast was clear, he let go and freefalled, righting himself with a skillfully-timed wing-flare before alighting upon the ground alongside her.

Tablet held in both hands, Abby tapped the screen to call up their most recently read title.

Reading ahead, Pennywise had already pegged which one it was.

" _Narnia_ , agAin?"

There was a note of disappointment in his voice. At what, Abby didn't know. But the reason became clear as she watched him prod ineffectively at the screen.

Once, then twice.

"Hmph." Pennywise's chin settled on the top of his interlaced fingers, while he spared her a wry grin that was almost sufferable. "I ougHt to tell Stan you need a papErback of that one. The whole series, actuaLly."

Abby blinked, tilting her head. Her friend didn't always make as much sense as she would like to see from him. There were bookshelves at home, but none in her bedroom itself - for a reason.

Fewer things that needed dusting.

"Why? What's wrong with having it on a tablet?"

"Nothing." He arched an eyebrow, better suiting his expression of _you-really-don't-know_ , then he frowned, as she shot him a prompting _go-on_ look. "But books are moRe fun in person, to hold, than- tHan this." Unwinding his hands, he tried for another ineffective screen-swipe.

The on-screen text didn't twitch.

Abby shook her head, smiling.

Nothing, indeed, that fibber.

"You're just annoyed 'cause it doesn't work with gloves on."

"Didn't say I waSn't, Abs."

"You _are_ , though."

Pennywise snorted softly, rolling his eyes - that strange, one-eye-opposite-the-other roll. The flare in his frilly, layered collar eased. "Kinda, oh-kay? I admit iT."

Any true irritation he felt had to be minimal. If something bothered him enough, he wasn't shy about disappearing from its presence. Not like the time she had speared a pea on her fork (while neither Mommy or Daddy watched) and tried to offer it to him, crouched as the creature was under the kitchen table. The look on his bleak face was one of pure revulsion.

With one fingertip he had slowly pushed her elbow up, until her hand rested at the edge of her plate once more.

_("Nooo. I draw the line aT eating your veGgies for you.")_

And next she had chanced a look, he was gone.

If using the tablet were as unpleasant as he claimed, he wouldn't still be here, bantering with her over it.

"Dolt," Abby grinned, scooting sideways, so close their arms touched. The hem of her dress bunched around her knees. "It's okay, I won't read ahead of you, promise."

Pennywise scoffed, but took the change-in-position cue for what it was, draping an arm over her far shoulder. The shadow he cast effectively cut down the glare on the tablet's screen. In the reflection she could see the compromising smile he favored her words with. "Fine by mE."

The next ten minutes were spent in companionable near-silence. Abby hiked her ankles up so they weren't lying flat on the ground, idly kicking one, then the other foot against the air while she read. Idly, she heard the murmurs from around the side of the hedge, but didn't pay their content any greater attention.

The clown read silently beside her.

Until he didn't.

_Ting._

"...You've been- sleepiNg okay?"

Abby blinked. "Yeah, why?"

"Because." Intertwined as they were, denned in between his arms, she felt him shrug. "I haveN't been around for a few daYs. Just- just wondering."

Abby blinked again and squinted, tilting the tablet down against the grass.

Why would he need to wonder?

There was a topic she had been wondering at, actually.

"Why do you ask questions to things you already know, Penny?" she inquired, looking up from the tablet. Suddenly the classic fantasy she was reading about didn't seem so interesting compared to that which she was living. "It's... confusing."

She felt his chin brush her ear. A second later, his face lowered into view, peering around her shoulder like a curious horse's. "Oh? How so?"

"I mean, if you- already know everything there is to know, why do you have to ask?"

He paused, considering. It wasn't unlike the quietly-disquiet look Daddy pulled whenever she asked a big question like that. Every time she saw it, she waited, patiently. It took time for adults to put their answers together in words you could digest, after all.

Pennywise wasn't so different there.

Even if she had no idea just how old he was.

(Like... maybe the oldest adult ever?)

"It's not that I haVe to, Abs. Or need to. I... liKe to."

"You do?" Abby squinted again, nose wrinkling. Pondering those words, she tucked a burnette strand of hair behind her ear. The distraction it provided her was suddenly very welcome. "You like to... ask about how I'm sleeping?"

Pennywise smirked at her fussing, weight shifting to his right elbow. With his other hand he brushed the other stray strands out of her eyes. Trekking across the park had blown them out of place.

But they were always destined to be, to some extent, owing to their natural curl.

"To make sure you're okay. Anyone who trieS to avoid naptime as much as you, sometimes- _sometimes_ , I'd ask them just as muCh," he reasoned, no doubt thinking of her as compared to Uncle Georgie and how he had been around the same age. "And asking... means that I cAre. Because... how much fun would I be, to be around, if I didn't?"

Abby shook her head. "Mm. Not very?"

"No. And wouldn't _you_ asK me how _I_ was, if I were ever in trouble?"

"You never get in trouble, though."

"Nah, not theSe days." The glance away into the distance was as brief as the pause he favored, sharply looking sideways and up at her again. "You would ask if I waS okay, as I would for you. It doesn't matter if you alrEady know. It's good to make sUre what you think you know is right, to not get tHe wrong idea."

Lips pursing, Abby smothered a bewildered little laugh. Wisdom masquerading as concern. No wonder he and Daddy got along so well. At times, they sounded exactly alike, and her thinking she had the weirdest adopted brother ever wasn't such an unfounded thought.

"Yeah, I... guess that makes sense."

Pausing again, Pennywise might have thought to frown at that, but he refrained. Instead, he arched his eyebrow again, tilting his head far enough to look through the tops of his eyes. "RealLy, though... are you?"

_Oh, Mister Serious isn't done yet._

Abby smiled her most disarming smile. Sarcasm wasn't her mandate, not here. "What?"

"Sleeping oKay?"

"Mm-hm! ...I _am_. Spend the night tonight, you'll see. I am." Balancing the screen in the palm of her hand, Abby twisted around, reaching as far as her arm would go, so she could to pat his cheek. "Really, Penny, I am. You don't have to worry."

A barely-there smile was her reward. "Okay, Abs. I'll see for myseLf."

"Okay."

_Then you'll see there's no problem._

His face pulled away, apparently content to read over her shoulder again. Abby turned back to the tablet, sparing a cursory glance toward the hedge behind them. Nope, they were safe. Mommy was still talking. The neverending babble of the fountain effectively covered their hushed conversation, as did the whispering rustle of a breeze through the willow branches.

The girl's expression fell as she turned back to her reading, though. In thinking of other matters, she had forgotten.

She had lost her place.

From his vantage point, Pennywise saw her hesitation for himself. His hand - dwarfing her own by no less than four sizes - lifted, gently tapping the screen's second-to-last paragraph.

"You left oFf there."

Smiling, she deftly swiped to the next page, then shuffled backwards, huddling closer to his chest. While the day was warm, he felt comfortably cool to lie almost beneath, cooler than the shade around them.

While Mommy and her friends had to be fanning themselves by now, reaching for their bottles of water, the youngest of their complement had a decidedly unfair advantage.

Nuzzling the top of her head against his jaw, Abby couldn't help giggling at the thought, and at Pennywise's very-much-pretended grunt of annoyance.

"Heh. Thank you."

"AnytIme, Abs."


	33. Epilogue AU: Whitewash

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vicky’s not a cuddler...
> 
> Except when she wants to be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Post “Show, Don’t Tell” / “Spelling Blocks”.

* * *

It wasn't that Bill and Audra were absent of their own volition, exactly. The demands of their jobs simply made that a daily part of their lives, a factor to be begrudgingly accepted, and It didn't need to dig very deep to sense the inward distress this caused them. Internalized though it was, as the pair were both undeniable professionals in their given fields, there were times it tended to stand in the way of seeing to Vicky's needs.

Not deliberately, but it was collateral damage being done nonetheless.

There was a reason they had held off for so long before attempting to start a family, after all.

And there were only so many things the on-hire nanny could be around for. The person in question wasn't a live-in assistant, available at all hours to see to the given child's every last need (only the most well-off of Hollywood tended to favor those, and the Denbroughs made a conscious effort to not fall prey to the same fad; the last thing they wanted was a daughter who somehow harbored more affection for their stand-in parent proxy than her biological relatives).

Despite the encouraging nature of their startling first meeting, in which the girl had promptly hugged and soon kissed him on the nose, and the mitigating factor that was Abby Uris, It soon learned that diving in for a comforting hug was not the way to best settle Vicky's fears.

Especially not during a thunderstorm.

* * *

"Go away!"

The intruder couldn't stifle a high-pitched yelp as Vicky swiftly followed up her demand with the toss of a pillow. Of the three she currently had, the smallest was within grabbing range, and she winged it forth like an improvised nunchuck.

Pennywise ducked on reflex, despite there being no real danger from catching a sewn-up bundle of feathers to the face, as thrown by a three-year-old girl. The pillow sailed harmlessly over the top of his skull, close enough to ruffle his hair, before flopping to an anticlimatic landing on the carpeted bedroom floor.

Crouched low beside the bed, he froze for a few seconds, listening to the toddler's sharp, gasping sniffs, as if she now anticipated the worst kind of reaction out of him as a result, until another lightning strike flashed outside. That proved to be far more alarming. The two windows above her dresser and bookcase, overlooking the hillside full of lavish Southern California homes, were momentarily whited out.

Waiting the obligatory moment longer, as thunder rumbled and growled and shook the very house around them, It slowly inched his way back into view.

Rain continued to run down the panes in waterfall-like sheets.

It blinked. Tilting his face to the right (and therefore making a smaller target of his head), he frowned against the side of the bed. The sight his one visible eye beheld was both troubling and expected. This was the first time he had appeared at this particular bedside, at this time of night, and it showed.

Victoria was gone.

She had disappeared into a fetal-shaped huddle under her blanket.

"...Vicky, it's juSt me."

The blanketed lump twitched and writhed, but save for another muffled whimper, his words were given no further acknowledgment.

Pennywise waited, listening to the drum of rain outside, momentarily taken aback to another similiarly-wet afternoon in Maine (in which he had surprised this girl's father in much the same fashion all those years ago). Slowly, the humanoid creature set his hands on the bed, cautiously righting himself, daring to ease up from a crouch to a drooping stand.

Bracing a palm flat on the comforter, he leaned over. Upon hearing no answer from her, he nudged the lump with the back of his other hand.

"VictoRia."

"Go _away_."

Pennywise blinked, eyes aligning, and let half his red mouth quirk up in a smile - a very unconvinced one.

Huh. She didn't sound all that tearful.

Not about him being there.

_A little astraphobic, are we?_

"Go?" The shapeshifter tried for another poke, literal and otherwise. "And lEave you heRe with only the _storm_ for comPany? WelL, that's hardLy fair to you- or me, after traVeling all the way I have to meEt you."

Vicky wasn't swayed by his argument, or the more likely possibility was that she didn't understand its import. The blanketed lump, posing as her, shifted away at the touch, and the mattress gave a soft squeak as the girl - still hidden - tried to crawl away from beneath her sheets.

Her progress was for naught. She made it as far as the wall, giving a little disappointed moan as her escape was brought up short.

Pennywise's smile faded, and he thought to close his mouth, to swallow a fresh wave of spit, running his tongue across the back of his teeth. Yes, the fear emanating from under the cotton folds was there, teasing with its very presence, and it was very tempting to spin it into something more tangible, into something worth scarfing down.

Here the kid was, completely at his mercy. It could have been so very easy.

But that wasn't his way. Not anymore.

Carefully, he pulled himself onto the foot of the bed, mindful to fold his limbs around and into as small a shape as they could be arranged. A twin-sized mattress only offered so much legroom.

"Vicky, come _on_ , come out."

"Wh-what do you want, Pennywise?" her very-muffled voice demanded. "You can't make the rain stop. So- so go away."

_Hmph. If you're gonna demand that, can't you at least say it to my face?_

_...Your_ not _-face._

_Shut up, Richie-voice._

Brows furrowing, It scoffed quietly through his nose, wiping belatedly at his wetted lips. No, he couldn't change the weather.

But he would have thought this girl, even one this prim and already groomed beyond her years (moreso than Abby), would be more receptive to someone trying to comfort her than this. Victoria was only three, and this couldn't be the first time someone had tried to address her concerns and smooth them over.

Not that Bill or Audra hadn't tried. They just weren't always around to be able to.

It blinked and smirked again. "Please." He uncoiled himself and tried for another nudge, unable to help a habitual giggle as the toddler twitched away at his touch. "Hey. C'mon, doN't make me come in thEre and get you."

A mild threat, but she had seen It do as much already, earlier that afternoon, slinking out from under the bed. He wasn't kidding.

Besides, wasn't it getting hot under there by now?

The rain kept on pattering against the house.

With a flustered, fussy-sounding huff, Victoria Denbrough eventually twisted around and extracted herself from the soft folds, far enough to peep out from under the edge. Her dark blue eyes looked almost black in the shadows of the room, offset only by a small nightlight in the corner. The strands of her hair had been spun about her face and head into a halfmade rat's nest.

Pennywise sat back and shrugged, smiling. "See? Was tHat so hard?"

"N-no." She blinked and stared at him with wide, doe-like eyes. There was only a precious few feet separating them. "Will- will you go away now?"

"Aw." The smile dropped. "You realLy wanT me to?"

Betraying her real feelings of apprehension, Vicky kneaded the blanket's edge with her fingers. "N... no. B-but you- you have to. If Mommy hears you, we'll be in trouble."

_Why? Because the invitation didn't explicitly include my name when it turned up in Stan's mailbox?_

Arms folded, Pennywise favored her with a sidelong look. "Didn't Daddy explain tHat? Only so maNy people can hear or see me, Vicky. That doesn't incLude your Mommy."

Bill may well have explained it. Being the well-versed man he was, he must have.

But of course Vicky would be inclined to ask these things of It for herself. "How come?"

"BecauSe, that's hoW it works," the entity explained, in as simple a fashion he knew how. It wasn't far from the truth, comprehensible or not. "Your Aunt Patty never has, and I've knoWn Abby sinCe she was only a few months old."

"Really?" Vicky's mouth dropped open, mildly astonished. "That long?"

"Yep, and she's neveR gotten or _been_ in trouble for it. Neither will you."

"No?"

"Nope. Not froM me, or the storm. I just- wanteD to check on you. SomEone had to."

Her eyes shifted back and forth, searching his expression for any sign of insincerity or falsehood. Finding none, she hesitated and finally pulled the blanket away from her face.

"Well. Thank you, but..."

"But, whaT?"

"Will you be... staying?"

Eyes half-lidded, Pennywise shrugged again, nonchalant. "I can, if you wAnt."

Far from looking overjoyed at the idea, Vicky's head reared back on the curve of her neck, like an affronted swan. Either the affection she had shown him earlier was part of an act, or she wasn't sure if this was a proper expansion on the same idea. "...It's... but- this is still _my_ bed, though."

True. He had toyed with the idea of staying, momentarily. Floor, bed, anywhere in between. He wasn't particular.

But only if she allowed it.

Pennywise arched an eyebrow. "You coUld sharrre...?"

 _It's not unheard of - like that time, while camping, Richie had to share his sleeping bag with Eds - because a bunch of mud_ somehow _found its way into Eddie's..._

_...Pst, audience. ...Yeah. We're pretty sure the mudbomb was Richie's doing all along. Read into it what you will._

It had to repress another inexplicable smile at the memory. Slowly, he leaned forward as Vicky contemplated her possible answer out loud: "Yeah, I could..."

A finger jabbing into his nose stopped his progress, almost in time with another booming roil of thunder, without the accompanying lightning. Frowning, the girl ignored its effects.

She merely met her visitor's now-puzzled eyes, held them, then pointed back past him.

"Nyh-uh. You, over _there_. Puppies get the _end_ of the bed."

He blinked.

 _But I'm_ _**not** _ _a-_

"Oh." Stifling a need to cackle, Pennywise grit his teeth into a passable sneer of a grin. He sat back, equal parts dismayed and amused, suddenly resigned to acting the part of a subserviant vassal. "Ohh, but of course. As you _wisH_ , Your Highness."

While he said it in what-sounded-like a long-suffering sigh, the luminescent sparkle of levity in Vicky's eyes was worth enduring the supposed indignity for. Catering to her expectations, it was the only way to summon it. She did already live something like a West Coast princess.

And again, there was only so much room here to comfortably accomodate them both. It wasn't like he would be trying to sleep for real, just for appearances. She needed a distraction to keep her mind off of being afraid. If there was one thing he was good at it, making a decoy of himself had to count.

Yes. He could do that much.

Lying flat alongside the wall, It paid a care to not bend either knee. Stretched out, his feet nearly reached the corner beside the headboard. His upper body filled the narrow end of the bed almost to capacity. He stilled long enough to watch, through the sides of his eyes, as Victoria situated herself, her back against his knees. She scooted down and laid her head on the pillows, face turned away, toward the door.

Crossing his arms, folding his wrists into a makeshift pillow, Pennywise waited until she had grown quiet before hazarding some parting assurances:

"Okay? ...I'Ll be over here if you need anything, ViCky. G'night."

"G'night, Puppy."

Shoulders hunching, Pennywise limited his irritation to a tortured groan, burying his face into hiding beneath the frills on his arms. For a second, he didn't care what message the gesture sent.

That _name_ \- still rubbed him the wrong way.

Didn't matter how fitting it was or wasn't.

The girl's reaction settled those ruffled feathers. Victoria's quiet giggling helped steel her against any lingering fear of the storm, still howling away outside, and it effectively lulled her to sleep.

* * *

Around an hour later (according to the vintage-looking clock on the wall), Pennywise felt something stir nearby. Unsurprisingly, Victoria had decided on a change of place while he pretended to doze.

He opened one bleary eye and swiveled it for a look.

She had closed the gap. The girl was curled on her side now, tucked against him, with the very-disheveled blanket pulled over - underside facing out - and wound around herself. The tail end of it she had half-draped across his shoulders - sharing its warmth besides the space they occupied. The side of her head rested on his billowed bicep, with both her dainty hands wound around his elbow.

Her expression was the picture of peaceful.

_Just like Georgie used to._

Thunder boomed again, without the flare of lightning to precede it.

It listened, feeling almost satisfied to feel the reverb die down as it pealed out across the town. The flagging noise almost came across as disappointed, like the storm was remorseful to discover its power no longer held sway over Vicky's nerves.

As well it shouldn't.

Smirking, It scoffed against his belled wrists and let his eye drop shut.

 _Yep. She's_ definitely _a different type than Abs is, this one._

_But not too different for my liking._


	34. Epilogue AU: Live What You Learn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vicky's made a aware of a certain someone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pre "Show, Don't Tell".

Timing.

It had proved to be as important in real life as it was in any film. Or book for that matter. Whether the medium was visual or literary, the full significance of a given moment often hinged on when and where it was placed. You had to make the most of your established atmosphere, or else your pacing would have been for naught.

Today, this mode of thinking very much pertained to a long-awaited conversation Bill Denbrough had held off on actually having for so long.

He had to spring the subject at just the right time.

Preferably when Audra was out.

* * *

That is, out like a light.

Sparing one last look over his shoulder, Bill gently closed the bedroom door behind him before stealing a glance at the nearest clock. Naturally, a tried-and-true quip regarding one's beauty sleep jumped to mind, as he regarded the still-slumbering form of his wife, burrowed deep into the comforters of their bed. Not that Audra was in any way lacking in the aforementioned attractiveness department, but nearly four days' worth of continuous travel around the country did the trick. The actress had many pokers in various fires between here and New York.

She was still human, when all was said and done. Her endurance, though impressive, had its limits. Shouting through a bullhorn wouldn't be enough to wake her now.

Ergo, it was a simple enough matter for her husband to slip out of the sheets to don a bathrobe, sleuth his way down the hallway, and visit their three-year-old daughter's bedside.

The nightlight was enough to see by, and the room itself was as neat and tidy as it ever was. The same couldn't be said for Victoria, who dozed as peacefully as her mother, hands hidden elbow-deep beneath her pillow. Her copper-red locks were splayed across the pillowcase in hopeless disarray. Bill hesitated only a scant few seconds, smiling at the unruly incongruity of the undisturbed sight, before gently setting a hand on her shoulder.

"Psst. Victoria... _Vicky_."

One whisper was all it took. The girl's sleep-hazy eyes popped open, blinking sharply, shifting anxiously before following the sound of his voice to his face. Backlit was it was, she squinted before familiarity set in and her nervousness vanished, replaced only by a foggy look of curiousity.

"Da... Daahddy?" The urge to yawn overcame her mid-pronounciation. She fussed only enough to put a hand over her mouth, as Mommy said that's what all proper ladies did.

"Yeah, it's okay, it's just me," Bill assured, waiting until she took the time to rub the blurriness from her eyes, before scooting up to sit, cross-legged, against the headboard. Delicately, he took a seat on the mattress' edge. "Sorry if I scared you."

"Oh." Victoria blinked, squinting around in the near-dark. Idly, she brushed and finger-combed her disheveled hair aside, so it didn't hang in her face. "You... you didn't. What's wrong?"

_Wrong._

_Besides everything else, not this, at least._

"Nothing, sweetheart, I just... wanted to talk."

"Yeah? What about?"

_And at this late hour?_

But at least she wasn't fretting about being awakened in such a fashion.

Bill paused, picking at the suddenly-itchy collar of his robe. He wasn't the secretive, conspiratorial sort. Even something as simple as a late night powwow with the only other member of their family felt out of the norm to him. He could just as easily have brought the subject up sometime in the last week Audra had been traveling.

But no. Instead, he delayed. He procrastinated long enough, burying himself in fresh writing assignments set in fantasitical, fictional realms, to somehow cope with the reality, to turn the what-ifs over and over in his head. The visit was right around the corner. Was there any other way to go about revealing the full measure of its significance now?

Timing.

Provided Stanley and his family weren't delayed, a shy twelve hours from now meant introductions could no longer be avoided. Victoria already knew she was to meet Abigail Uris, her honorary cousin, and the two households would be spending a week together, dually catching up on old times and making inroads where none had existed before.

One of those said inroads wasn't to be a paved street, but more like a secretive path through the woods - one only three of the six of them knew the location of.

Vicky would soon make four.

_Like it or not._

Denbrough sincerely hoped for the former.

And much of the like would be determined by how much preemptive warning his daughter had at her disposal. Like Audra, she loathed surprises. She liked routines, their oh-so-organized surroundings, and the peace of mind to be had therefore, compared to the hecticness of the city outside their home.

Maybe it would later spiral into a kind of obsessive-compulsive personality, but for now, Bill had other concerns.

"You remember... when I said, my old friend Stan and his family, they'd be flying out to visit us? To meet you?"

Victoria raised an eyebrow, hands kneading together beneath her blanket. The skepticism was there, but remained momentarily outweighed by her need to hear more. Knowledge of the fast-approaching nature of the visit certainly wasn't lost on her. "Uh huh..."

Bill swallowed, rubbing at his neck before thinking to still his hands. "Well, there's... one more- _person_ coming with them."

Like untold times before, there was only one close-enough noun to assign It and the many masks comprising him. So rather than duck the unavoidable, he went with it.

Denbrough paused, watching the myriad of emotions flicker behind Vicky's eyes. His apparent reluctance didn't seem to unnerve her. The girl only perked up as young children tended to when new information was sprung on them. Her eyes brightened with budding inquisitiveness.

"Yeah? Who?"

"He's a f... friend," Bill intoned, carefully. Was this how It felt, years ago, trying to explain something similar to the likes of him and Georgie? Wanting to say everything, and yet not too much, at the same time?

When the writer failed to continue, Victoria picked up the slack. Her brow creased as she thought more on the idea, undoubtedly beginning to wonder at her father's evasiveness. "Is- is he one of your friends? Like Uncle Richie?"

_Sort of._

_But at least It won't actually turn up at our door after shimmying over a fence like that._

_"Because, by Gawd, your closed-circuit television needs some excitement, I say," Tozier had brazenly declared, standing proud in the foyer. "And I, sir, aim to provide!" To which Victoria had been easily charmed, his appropriated British accent being an instant win to her ear, and dashed down the stairs to catch him in a unabashed hug._

_No. In the end, It went with a more-mannered, Stanley-esqe approach to avoid competing so directly with Richie for club mascot._

_But as far as_ where _he hails from-_

Weighing his options yet again, Bill took a steadying breath. His stutter was virtually extinct, save for those rare occasions when nerves returned in full force. "No, honey, he's not- from- well, yes, actually. He's from Maine, too. That's where we all- met."

_Beyond that, she need not know. Abby doesn't, last I heard._

Looking every way open and earnest, Victoria tilted her head, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "What's his name?"

_Aaand... this is where it gets complicated._

Again, Bill opted for the simplest response in lieu of the whole headache-inducing truth: "Penny."

"...You're kidding." Save for a disbelieving giggle, Victoria waited, pulling her knees up beneath her blanket, looping her arms around them as if to say _tell-me-for-real-now_. When her father's pensive expression remained unchanged, her amused smile faded a notch. Her head tilted the other way. "Really? That? That's his name?"

_Among others._

"Yes, it is."

She blinked, more bemused by the second. "I didn't know boys could be named Penny."

_Androgyny - another big word she needs to learn._

Bill had to fight a mistimed urge to grin. Though tempting, he chose not to explain the concept then and there. It didn't matter how well-read a child was. Some topics were best saved for later in life.

"He is. And he's not- not... well. There's no more simple a way to put this, Victoria. You'll know him when you see him, because he's... he's a clown."

Her next peal of laughter went off like a discordant bell, bouncing off the rose-toned walls of her room, before she held her hands to her mouth, remembering after the fact Audra was still asleep. "A clown, Daddy? Really? You're friends with a clown?"

"Yes."

"From a circus?"

 _Not... exactly._ Bill scoffed, unable to help a slowly-building smile from finally forming, picturing the inane possibility as it formed, when the reality had been so dire, complex, and anything except jolly. He didn't quite roll his eyes, but paid the ceiling an appreciative glance all the same. "I know, silly, right?"

"A clown from Maine," Victoria quantified, trying to put the pieces together, despite her mirth. "He'll be visiting, too?"

"Yes, honey, along with Abby. I just wanted you to know so... it wouldn't be such a shock. I know how you don't like surprises." Bill reached over to pat her shoulder. The anticipatory tension was now a thing of the past. The words, now uncorked, flowed easier and easier now. At her nod, he went on: "Penny tends to- show up where you least expect him. I didn't want you to be scared, if he does. He won't hurt you, that's all you need to keep in mind."

"But- won't I meet him along with Uncle Stan?"

"You will, sweetie. Probably not at the same- time, though. Penny's... not like other clowns."

"How? How can he be?"

_In pretty much every way there is, he can._

Denbrough shook his head and shrugged. There was no greater sense to debate with oneself on the subject any more than that. "He just... is. You'll understand when you see him."

"Is he... Is he slow? Special? Like that boy at the daycare?"

"No."

"Does he look... different, from normal clowns?”

"I don't think there is such a thing as a normal clown, hon. Do you?"

Victoria frowned, raising an eyebrow. Her enthusiasm dimmed visibly. Still, she knew better than to fuss and tantrum in front of him. Those rare episodes were more reserved for Audra, probably on the basis of mutual femininity alone. "Daddy, that- that doesn't tell me very much."

"I know, I'm sorry. But I can't explain any better, any other way. You have to... see it to believe it," Bill summarized, somehow able to keep a straight face at delivering such a cliché line. He stood and leaned over, closing the distance between them into something more intimate. "No matter what he does, what he says, he won't hurt you. That's all you have to remember, okay?"

The next nod wasn't as unhesitant as the first. Vicky's shoulders hunched as she pondered the words, clearly deciding whether they were more a soft-spoken caution or a delightful secret. Mysteries weren't something she had much experience with, and this one ough to prove harmless enough an introduction to the concept.

In a way, there was no mystery left at all. If Abby could be left in Pennywise's arms, utterly unguarded, at a tender three months old, and on countless occasions to follow without incident, therein lay the proven standard of trust. Stan had taken some convincing, as any good father would have, and if for him the ultimate hurdle could be cleared, the rest of them would follow soon enough.

There wasn't anything to fear from It now.

"Will Mommy meet him, too?"

Bill smiled. Audra's presence was not an unwelcome factor in this arrangement. There simply was no getting around her not consciously comprehending It, so there was nothing to fret over.

"No. He's... only here to see you. He asked if he could, and I agreed. I wouldn't've if I didn't trust him."

_Insofar as his interest in attending this meet goes at all, you're the real draw. There'd be no incentive otherwise._

_Just giving my permission was excitement enough for him, according to Stan._

"Okay..." While not appearing very convinced, Vicky unfolded her arms. With even more reluctance, she scooted down under the covers again. While her father proceeded to tuck her in, she voiced one last question, "Should I- I tell you when I see him? Or Mommy, even?"

"No, sweetie. Mommy doesn't need to know, she has enough to do already, for dinner and all. And I'll know he's around, one way or another. Don't worry about keeping us- abridged." Bill smirked, brushing her bangs aside to kiss her forehead. One last big word for the road wouldn't hurt. "I mean that. Now get some sleep. I love you."

"Ah- ahb-bridg-ged..." Distracted by the newness of the term, Victoria trailed off, before suddenly remembering to return the sentiment. She clutched her blanket against her chin and smiled. "Oh-okay. Love you, too, Daddy. Thanks for telling me."

Bill left the door open ajar, per her unspoken liking. He returned to bed already feeling about fifty pounds lighter, having finally said something. He marveled quietly at his own bout of foolishness, for not saying anything sooner. It wasn't unlike pitching a virgin screenplay to a studio, one you thought they would immediately scoff and turn their noses up at, only to be equal parts thrilled and relieved to see it did, in actuality, garner some favorable interest.

Still aslumber, Audra didn't move, save for a soft sigh as he retook his place, nuzzling up against her bare back. Yes. Ultimately, the talk had been easy enough. Less than a day away he would have some new roads charted out on the proverbial map that was his life, two routes known as Patricia and Abigail. And in addition to them he would be making a very tangible reconnection with an almost-forgotten trail, which had always been there, albeit warped to some degree by time.

Overgrown and faded into the foggy, dewdrop-laden Maine woods, maybe.

It was never completely gone, though.

Like taking a marker to a line, originally drawn in pencil, and tracing it anew, that path would only bolden, branch forth, and lead to new and exciting possibilities.

For him as well as Victoria.

Armed and ready, she could start to navigate the path for herself now.


	35. Inversion AU: Fuse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another AU, post _ITerations_ , It didn't go quietly.
> 
> ...Still hasn't.
> 
> Part 1 of 3.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Recommended OST: "Point Of No Return" by Starset.
> 
> Self-indulgent AU experimentation, as inspired by the trailers for _Venom_.

This wasn't nausea, per se. He felt no true need to expel whatever was left of his last meal, as if his guts had spontaneously decided they could no longer handle its presence. Where once they undoubtedly would not tolerate the invasion of so much unconventional... food, he suspected the only discomfort he now felt at the queasy notion was purely mental. His body was no longer complaining the way it rightfully should be at the thought of what it was missing.

Still, he would have endured the world's worst case of food poisoning in recorded history if it meant somehow availing him of this morally-repulsive craving.

His head hurt, too. Mostly, it manifested as a peculiar tightness festering between his ears. It pulsed worst around his optic nerves, but the applied pressure was not enough to blot out his awareness to a somehow-comfortable degree. His senses were dulled, halved, but not dead enough they spared him their full opinion on the discomfort.

The pain wasn't a full-on debilitating migraine, whose agonizing effects could easily be allayed by the right regimen of ibuprofen and bedrest. A rather sedate headache, he didn't want to remember when it had began. It simply showed no signs of diminishing anytime soon.

Eddie supposed, among other factors, his building frustration wasn't helping soothe either ailment.

Lord knew the wan-faced sophomore had an indefinite number of medical excuses to pull from his pocket, he could effectively cut class and suffer no official repercussions. Only in this sense was he even remotely grateful being genetically-predisposed to so many conditions. It meant he could partake in as many visits to the school restroom as he had in the past few days, and no one batted an eye.

But then, this wasn't the only reason no heads turned his way as he left science class for the fourth day in a row.

Today, all it had taken one glance at the contents of his biology book to send his mind careening back around the proverbial basin, his very sanity spiraling down in a swirling mess, with no way to drop a stopper in the drain to slow the flow. After lunch, he had been feeling a trifle better - just a _bit_ , as some blessedly-normal cuisine did surprising wonders to refresh his waning energy reserves - and despite his ever-paranoid, hypochondria-prone nature, Eddie had tried to hope for the best thereafter. He might be able to make it home without losing his shit for the millionth time or so in the past two weeks.

How foolishly optimistic of him.

School was back on. To most kids, it was the ultimate evil.

Easy for them to say.

This was something worse.

* * *

_ToLd you we were tireD._

Arms positioned around the perimeter of the sink, Eddie Kaspbrak exhaled and rested his clammy forehead against his overlapped wrists. The mounting vertigo reached its peak just as he had stumbled through the door. With every step down the hall he felt the bizarre, ever-increasing sensation of taking longer and longer strides, feeling his vantage point shift from normal to somehow-higher up, as though he were ascending invisible stairs.

It left him feeling unbearably dizzy. Catching himself on the counter, the shivering teenager tried to breathe deep and easy, to ignore the new sheen of sweat he felt emanating from under his arms and running down his back. He had walked at a brisk pace, but nothing that should warrant sweating so much all of a sudden.

Thankfully, he had dressed accordingly. In recent days he had taken to wearing dark clothes, sometimes a jacket. Using the guise of color and layers to mask what outward symptoms there were, the signs no one had yet called him out on were peculiar and troublesome.

As yet, increased perspiration (cool to the touch, like he had taken a very-impulsive ice shower), frequent moments of full-body weakness (a day hence Bill and Richie saved his suddenly-weak-kneed bacon from tumbling down a flight of stairs), and an abnormally-elevated heartbeat (which stayed elevated long after supposedly calming down) were the three most prevalent clues as to his reconfiguring state.

Over the last week, for whatever reason not yet divulged, It's presence became more and more apparent.

In far more direct a fashion than ever before.

For the moment, Eddie tried to pretend he was hearing the familiar raspy, pitchy voice echo up from the dark, metallic circle he was presently staring into. He scowled at it. There. _There_ was where the words were coming from. He could handle that being true.

His new reality was too daunting, too overwhelming to face. Still.

The others knew what was wrong, sort of. Once he bothered returning their phone calls, shakily sharing his theory, it turned out they had no better explanation than he himself had come up with _("Possession? ...Fuck me. Can you find a word that's a little less cliché, Ben?" "...None that'll fit what you've described any better, Eddie. I'm sorry.")_. They had tried, tried to console him with words of support, promises of a fix, and kind actions to match. But like so many times before, there was only so much they could _do_ , and they knew this. They couldn't very well live his life for him, in the here and now.

...Why couldn't they, though? Help- help somehow, in such a fashion? If something as fundamentally fucked up as _this_ could even be possible-

_Aw, come on, Eds. You know I'm not thaT ba-_

"Don't _even_ go there, asshole," Eddie breathed out, barely a whisper of a wheeze, teeth gritting together. Besides the chill of his skin and the mental fatigue, he felt a flare of his old temper, trying in vain to ignite against the blizzard spooling up inside. "Don't you... even."

Guiltily, almost, It went silent.

Eddie fumed while he could. Given the privacy found upon shoving one's head in the sink, his ear caught the telltale _bang_ of a stall door, opening somewhere on the other side of the bathroom. He flinched despite the relative softness of the noise. Given the headrush he was currently caught in the grips of, it sounded like a bomb detonating on the other end of the state.

But he somehow heard it - close, yet distant - in the same room.

No, the human brain wasn't at all wired for coping with something like this.

"Jeez. You okay, Kaspbrak?"

The pitchy, squeaking voice took on a growl. _For Gan's sake. Go -_ _ **awAy**_ _._

Feigning a queasy-sounding groan, the germaphobe unwound an arm, waving a dismissive hand in the stranger's vague direction. It didn't matter who the other voice was, or what their business was in the restroom. Right now, they were just an unwanted presence, with their own class to get back to, surely.

Obediently, doing as they were bid by some indescribable feeling of "better left alone", the aforementioned student drifted out the door without a backwards glance.

The second after it forebodingly swung shut, Eddie snapped back to life, or whatever paper-thin sense of it he still had possession of. He wrenched his head up and tried to call after the departing boy: "N-no, wuh-wait, ple- "

_No. Leave it alone, Eds. We're asking for more trouble tHan it's worth, getting him involved._

Slumping over, Eddie forced a scoff, brushing angrily at the disheveled bangs, hanging over his eyes. His chest still felt tight, as though a corset had been fastened around his lungs. " _We_ aren't asking anything, I- I was."

_...We._

_"_ Shut- _Shut up."_

_Why? Aren't... aren't you even a litTle-_

"Not anymore, you _bastard_ , not one _fucking_ iota," Eddie seethed, arms braced on the counter once more. Staring his pale, slit-eyed reflection down in the mirror - his reflection, _his_ , no one else's - the dark-haired fourteen-year-old was vaguely surprised only to not see clouds of steam puffing out of his ears.

Then, as if It were catering to the idea-

"Knock that off!" Watching it happen, as against his will as almost everything else had been as of late, Eddie clapped his hands against the sides of his head. "Quit!" Wisps of white vapor billowed from under his fingers.

A quite-literal sign of his boiling temper.

Or theirs.

The voice between his ears only answered with a muted, devilish chuckle.

At least It was trying to see the dark humor in the arrangement.

* * *

Eddie harbored no such illusions, trying to get in on the joke. To him, this was no punchline in any way worthy of the pain he and his friends had been through. After everything which had transpired in the last few months, the steady decline of their very-questionable-to-begin-with friendship, he no longer knew what to think of the presence which had supposedly found a new home within his very skull.

Hell, he still couldn't put his finger on what had made _him_ such a prime candidate to house It in the first place.

Physical build? Personality? His living situation? His place among his circle of friends?

Never Eddie would have wished any harm on the other Losers, never in his wildest dreams, but weren't they inherently better... choices for harboring a once-friend-turned-fugitive? Given the opportunity, were any of them downright asked, he had no doubt they would have stepped up and volunteered. Some moreso than others.

Instead, It hadn't proven half as considerate, in keeping with the spirit of the occasion. Recent heroics notwithstanding, Beverly was lucky to have survived her last run-in with the creature, before Bill Denbrough decided enough was enough. Time to put down the dog, gang. The being's base, animalistic side had won control, forcing them to subdue him under a flurry of blows and bashes. It went through form after form, word after spiteful word, as the rain kept up. Things had continued in such a chaotic fashion until seven-year-old Georgie Denbrough finally breached onto the scene and declared _"Stop!"_

Near the shattering point, It had wheeled around, stared balefully at him in bald-faced unrecognition, and immediately lunged for the kid, claws outstretched like a pouncing tiger about to take a deer. Through his tears, Mike Hanlon aimed with his coveted air rifle and pulled the trigger. The beast's corporeal body, taxed to its limits, promptly broke apart.

Georgie was left unharmed - physically, anyway.

It scattered, or so they thought. Whatever vestige of energy was left behind had, apparently, singled a thoroughly-winded Eddie out and latched onto him like an invisible tick. At the time, all he remembered feeling, besides a raging sorrow, was a vaguely ticklish sensation, creeping up the back of his neck. He flinched and pawed at the lower back of his skull - also known as the occipital bone, his biology textbook later revealed - before the sensation faded away.

Now he knew. The eldritch entity tied itself to him as steadfastly as Kaspbrak's own shadow - and was proving just as impossible to shake.

The signs were few and far between at first. Caught in the grips of his own emotional turmoil, nevermind what his friends were coping with, Eddie had written his initial few instances of weirdness off as byproducts of stress.

He supposed they would all be feeling somewhat apathetic, after being through what they had. Drained was the right word to describe how they had behaved. Together, the eight of them somehow found the strength to climb back up the well, and formulated a plan to notify the necessary authorities. They soon parted on very uncertain terms. Brushing off his mother's initial fretting and fawning as par for the course, Eddie remembered confining himself to his room.

Even as the phone rang not twelve hours later, he didn't think to answer it. Or in the days to come. Isolation, his once worst enemy when subjected to it for long periods of time, had suddenly seemed more appealing than any need to converse with Stan or bicker with Richie.

Barely a day later, Eddie lost his will to eat. ...Somewhat. He was never a big eater to begin with (much to his mother's chagrin), but suddenly the amply-stocked pantry wasn't looking all that full anymore. Or, it was, and he just didn't think so. His appetite slackened as much as it seemed to increase.

But for what, he dreaded to think. This was before he caught himself gazing almost lustily at his human anatomy textbook one day, eyes dreamily coasting over some illustration of the human circulatory and muscular systems. Pinning a word to the feeling he was experiencing, Eddie closed the tome with an impossibly-sharp _snap_. His science teacher, dutifully scrawling lesson notes across the blackboard at the front of the room, paid the noise no mind.

He slept more and more uneasily, turning unreasonably snippy and hotheaded within a record seventy-two hours - or "moreso than usual," as Richie pointed out. Once school was underway, Eddie tried to overcome the newfound insomnia to his advantage. He should have tired out to a sufficient degree, pouring over his mathematics homework with vicious, suicide-inducing determination. What was more dull than repetitive calculus problems?

Each time it only resulted in an anticlimactic slump over the kitchen table, pencil still in hand, no closer to answers on the page, or with regard to his turn in life, than when he began.

By the middle of September, he was scarcely sleeping at all.

Wide-eyed, Eddie did the unspoken math there in no time flat. He had been en route to said class and passed a recently-waxed trophy case in the school hallway. Glimpsing a refracted image of his thin face, he balked to a terrified stop. The throngs of students trailing away to either side of him kept on going, without one dirty look or angry comment of "watch it, twerp" to spare.

As if he were no longer being noticed, they strode on.

Placing a trembling hand on the glass, Eddie leaned in for a closer look. He turned his face one way, then the other, accounting for the glare cast by fluorescent lights. No. He couldn't quantify what he was looking at being true. His breath stalled, his shoulders and chest tightening ominously. His heart rate spiked. But he didn't think to reach for his inhaler.

He scant remembered to breathe in, with no consequence.

His image held all his attention in that moment. How was it, for as tired and hollowed-out as he currently felt, there were no bags under his eyes? They should be standing out as sure as if someone had smeared charcoal into the sockets.

And he had always been one given to having light skin. But looking at himself now, white as a freshly-washed bedsheet, except for the feverish tinge of his cheeks-

_Hmm. Not looking so... hot therE, are we, Eds?_

Like Fate had broken out an invisible hammer, the glass cracked under his feather-light touch, splitting laterally from one side of the case to the other. Eddie yelped and lept backwards, holding his undamaged hand as though the limb had suddenly broke itself upon hearing the almost-cheery sneer.

 _"_ Fuck. _Fuck."_

He jigged aside, backing up flush against the wall, hands fisting knuckle-deep in his brown hair. He closed his eyes, and the dreaded ache set in. People kept passing him by, as unheard as he was his newfound misery was - evidently - unseen.

Recognition dawned, and with it, an avalanche of disbelief buried his mind, and insurmountable anger melted away the snow, before seizing him in her taloned clutches.

Everything abruptly added up. Then the pronoun-sharing game began.

Approaching the end of September, the banter with his onboard company still had yet to conclude.

Nor would it.

It hadn't gone to sleep.

* * *

Not for the first time, Eddie tried - for purely old time's sake - to reason with his 'guest' later the same afternoon. Out in the sunlight, he felt less confined, his wits a little sharper and not bent out of shape at the thought of being pent up inside with all his like-aged peers. There were fewer distractions to fall prey to out here.

...Prey.

It was starting to fixate on It's needs, regardless. More and more, Eddie caught himself (not _themselves_ , no) taking abnormally-long glances at his fellow students. And before things got out of hand, Eddie knew they had to reach some kind of compromise, an understanding. He couldn't last forever, not like this.

Physically or mentally.

_Maybe... mayBe you can, Eds?_

Kaspbrak paused midway through the ridiculously-arduous task of unlocking his bike. His vision was wavering worse than he could yet remember. The key was in the padlock, but he stopped before it could be turned.

Against his better judgment, he asked, in a near-whisper, "What... what're you talking about?"

_Lasting._

"Lasting...? You mean, like, surviving? Pfft, I'm- don't tell me that. I'm doing just- fine."

_Hmph. As RiChie would say, "Like hell you are."_

"Well, I'd be doing much better if you'd have just taken that semi-permanent nap you're so overdue for."

_...I tried to._

"What do you mean, tried? Dude, you were completely _spent_. After all that, all this, you can't just fall asleep now?"

_Would that we could, Eds._

"Stop it with the 'we' bullshit!"

_Shhh!_

"Don't try that crap with me, either. I know no one's listening except you right now."

_...Hmph._

"Yeah, I thought so. Locked up in each other's heads, are we? That's a two-way street, buster. Makes my head spin to listen to you, this close, but no more than it did before. There's some aspects of you my mind _can_ figure out, after all."

_...I can help make it spin leSs._

"...Yeah? What d'you suggest?"

_A deal. Whether you... you beliEve me or not, I don't want you to keep hurting. I just- we need to arrange- something. An understanding._

Somehow, in the deepest, darkest pits known as doubt, a encouraging spark of hope spluttered on. Eddie frowned and finally remembered to turn the key. The lock unhitched with a _click_. He stood up slowly, taking time to lean on the handlebars and get his bearings back.

Inside and out.

"I believe you."

_...You do?_

"Yeah... because I could always tell when you were lying - and I can better than ever, now."

Eddie cringed at the high, exasperated sound that abruptly filled his head. It whined like a rusty-hinged door, opening against its will, casting light on something better left in the dark.

But leaving the topic unspoken of didn't change the fact it was still there. It's stammering spoke volumes about the discomfort the mere notion caused.

 _Oh-kay, but- this wiLl only hurt as long as w-_ you _keep letting it, Eds. It doesn't haVe to. You won't liKe- what needs to be doNe. I don't, either. I don't like thiS outcome any mOre than you. And you're- look, you'Re barely sleeping, you're not eating righ-_

Eddie wrenched his bike out of the rack, headed for the sidewalk. He scant noticed the nearby students loitering nearby who paid his acridness a curious glance. " _Don't_ go there."

_It has to be sAid, Eddie. At some poiNt, I- w-we'll have to-_

Kicking up the stand, Eddie threw a leg over the frame and started to pedal. He picked up speed fast, lest anyone try and stop him before he found the momentum. " _You'll_ have to eat. _I_ 'm no fucking cannibal."

_Y... you're not, no. But I'm-_

"You're _impossible_ is what you are. You gotta eat, I get that. But you know what that _means_ for _me_? What am _I_ supposed to do? Just look the other way?" Eddie paused, letting the weight of his oft-interrupting words sink in. The flawed human being though he was, he had his own kind of teeth to bite with. They may not rend flesh, but in It's case, they could dice the entity's arguments to pieces in a few choice bites. "The same advice didn't work out so good for you when it came to consoling Georgie, remember?"

Low blow.

Again, It went quiet for a while.

Struggling to ignore the alien presence's very palpable wash of regret and sadness (as best he could en route; his traitorous eyes welled up in very direct sympathy, not just because of the chilly autumn wind), Eddie managed to ride his bike home without wobbling headfirst into a crash. He focused on the clicking of his spokes, trying to somehow get lost in the noise. The headache abated, and the tears dried. And he didn't hear so much as a discontent hum of his passenger's churning thoughts as he pedaled down the length of Neibolt Street.

It was like the opened door in his head had been eased shut again, leaving them both to the relative privacy of separate rooms.

Eyes forward, Eddie didn't slow. He passed the broken-down house at a fair clip. 29 Neibolt sat where it always had, an old, slouching eyesore. Kaspbrak had - in what now felt like a past life - once stolen away to it in the dead of night, to somehow keep tabs on the same bodyless creature now festering away within his own psyche.

Because he was such a nice guy, and part of this distinction came with being there for your friends when they were hurting.

He had counted It as a friend.

Foolishly, Eddie had disregarded the risks. Perhaps there was when he had went wrong. He had given their erstwhile mascot too much benefit of the doubt, and therefore the exact wrong idea. It latched onto him, because nothing in this town happened without It knowing, and It could see where the best hiding places were. If the framework of Derry itself was no longer a fit, someone living within her borders was.

And, intentionally or not, this was where they had ended up.

Who would've made a better host than the boy who, preemptive to most of his social club, taken It upon himself, in terms of trying to understand?

* * *

_The bridges are burning, the heat's on my face_  
_Making the past an unreachable place_  
_Pouring the fuel, fanning the flames_  
_I know, this is the point of no return_


	36. Inversion AU: Collude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trying to find some middle ground...
> 
> ...What ground is there to be found?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part 2 of Inversion.
> 
> Artistic license. Lots and lots of artistic license.

Insofar as the adjective could be applied to the situation, this wasn't wholly unfamiliar 'territory' to It. 

After suffering through a share of ill-suited alignments, the outcast entity supposed things could only continue as they had for so long. The run was (mostly) nice while it lasted. Like the waking year known as 1989, It's luck was rather finite. Every action, every proverbial step It had taken made noise, sounds heard and felt cosmos-wide, regardless of how far removed the maker was from the nexus.

It didn't matter how softly one treaded. Eventually, someone else's ear would catch the tiptoeing around.

And if you weren't dancing along to _their_ predetermined tune, watch out.

 

 

 

You would find yourself, as you _knew_ yourself to be, obliterated faster than you could say _pop_.

* * *

_...Yeesh. That's some ass-backwards idea of luck, man._

So went Eddie Kaspbrak's response to his hitchhiker's amended rendition of events.

(What much of it he could process, anyway.)

After a near-total-breakdown, It had spent an Earth week sulking about in the shadows, wherever they may have laid, before gathering up the nerve to pull back the curtain from over Eddie's eyes. Stuck in the young man's head as It was, the entity was equal parts dismayed and unsurprised to note just how unwelcome a reception the physical realm held in store for both of them. The not-nausea and the headaches Eddie was enduring were collateral damage, on top of all the rest It had caused already.

What was worse, the pains could have been avoided entirely. Granted, It hadn't been thinking very clearly at the time the choice was offered. The words came across like a veritable cosmic telegram, infuriatingly obtuse and deceivingly simple: _anchor or perish_.

But upon partaking in the former option, the folly had seemed like a saving grace. It thought it'd been for the better.

At first.

Alas, self-preservation was a high-priced luxury It couldn't afford. Not any longer. So the powers-to-be, somehow sympathetic to the good intentions It had predicated such an inherently-self-defeating endeavor on, passed their next best ruling. Considering the scope of the universe at large (this one, among many), It supposed there was room enough for all of them - the named and the nameless - to practice and somehow appreciate the act of others feeling merciful, in some regard.

Such happenings were rare enough among their ilk, they didn't threaten cosmic stability as a whole, did they?

If It's committed transgressions could be equated with a certain kind of human legal procedure, the dossier would read something like an incomplete, half-competently-compiled case file.

The charges: dereliction of destruction, innumerous counts; undue solicitation, eight (nine!) counts.

The evidence: see attaché, postnoted "1989".

The verdict: guilty.

The sentence: assimilation.

Explaining itself - or _himself_ , as Eddie Kaspbrak prefered to regard the being as having male pronouns (for humans and their overly-underevolved brains, this somehow made things easier for them to comprehend; per their intellect, it was a crucial factor in what they quantified as being real) - telling the story had been a very touch and go process at first. It didn't trust his words were coherent enough to be comprehended, let alone whether they were worth the energy it took to voice them.

But as It recuperated in near-silence, through what limited means the far-from-ideal body he now inhabited provided, he thought and rethought, how to explain what had happened to his host.

...Host?

_Friend._

_He's still your friend._

_...Isn't he?_

Given an actual mouth to do so with, It would have frowned in doubt. A few precious strands of awareness remained exclusively his own, like a computer running with limited bandwidth. It mused privately, as much as he was able, doing his best to ignore the side effects, which grew progressively worse over the course of a few days.

Small wonder why Eddie reacted to discovering the cause of them with such anger.

Assimilation was just what it sounded like - what was left of the entity's mind had been effectively liquidated, watered down to be soaked up by the next nearest sponge, to reconstitute itself. Now the leftover residue had dried, and It was crammed not into a facsimilie-like body of his own making, but another already-existing life.

Like any hastily-performed operation, complications could and were arising. The fragmented remnants of the process had yet to be excised from Eddie's very makeup. The loose, itchy hairs, not yet brushed away after undergoing a haircut, were making the boy twitch and squirm. His discomfort was the same as It's own.

...Their own.

In short, no. It didn't precisely like this arrangement any more than Eddie did. Already, there were second thoughts racing about. Maybe it would have been better if It had simply chosen to perish. Maybe not. Whatever void It left behind would have fallen to the proverbial hands of another being, one perhaps more compassionate, one more evil.

Who knew, in the end?

Here they were.

Tough luck.

Better to try and make the best of it, as much as they could.

* * *

"Aaand... the answer's seveNty-si-si- s-s-shit. Suh-t-top that. N-no, no. _Don't_."

One voice blended into the next, as who momentarily held the reins to operating said voicebox transitioned from one persona to the other. Clumsily reclaiming control over his motor functions, Eddie Kaspbrak recoiled as if it hit by a baseball bat at full swing. He promptly dropped the pencil and sharply scooted back from the desk. The feet of his chair snagged on the carpet, and the chair pitched percariously before he bent forward, elbows on his knees, forehead held in his palms.

From an unseen corner of the hapless boy's mindscape, It's mood sagged.

...Oops.

"Jesus Christ." Eddie's hyperventilating quieted eventually. The stinging along his optic nerves didn't lessen. Cautiously reopening his eyes, a few pent-up tears leeched out. "Don't- please, Jesus. Don't... _puppet_ me like that. Please."

It paused, gauging the tense words. They brushed against his awareness exactly like they sounded - rough and grating. He felt the echoes of his friend's physical tremors racing along his nonexistent nerves, coupled with the newest eruption of anxiety flooding their melded consciousness, burning like fresh-flowing lava.

After a few moments, It hazarded an apology.

He had gotten rather practiced at giving them.

_S... sorRy, Eds. ...I am. I wasN't- I'm sorry, I- waSn't trying to scare you. I- I just... you know._

"Whatever" sounded like a pretty astute word to use right about then. But It needn't bother finishing the sentence, any more than he smooth out his unreliably-inflection-prone voice.

Taking his own few seconds to ponder, Eddie could feel the effects of a disembodied if dismissive sigh for himself. Gradually, his fisted hands relaxed, as did the fraught grimace which had crossed his face. Almost as an afterthought, the boy reached up, placing a fingertip at his throat, and frowned, suddenly contemplative.

Much as the kid would have liked nothing better than to keep on panicking, It put a dampener on the urge. There was no need to alert Sonia as to the joint distress they were experiencing. Keeping her unawares was taxing enough on his dwindling reserves of energy.

It tried rewording his plea into something more explicit:

_I'm soRry, that waS dumb of me. In... inconsiderate. It's just- if I'm going to- to_ try _anything so boLd, you'd rather I do so in- in private, rigHt?_

"Sure. Try... try anything," Eddie repeated, in an almost-wheeze, trying to calm his racing, oh-so-confused heart - the organ was being sent two quite-conflicting signals as it was. Belatedly, he rubbed at his pinched throat, loosening it up. " _Ahem_. Yeah, try what you will. Just don't- make it a surprise. You know how jumpy I can be, remember? If we're gonna- _share_ \- that takes some getting used to."

Illustrating his words, on purpose or not, the teen couldn't help another accompanying shiver. He tried to cover it in pulling his chair back up to the desk.

It wasn't fooled. The distress was tangible, sensable even without a fusion of the two to magnify its effects.

_On top of everything else._

Another pause later, It's words stayed bent in a frown. _How's this, tHen? ... See? Speak noT out loud. It's easier._

Picking up his pencil, trying to focus on the impossible (hah) mathemathics riddle, Eddie listened in instead of out. He frowned, brows furrowing.

But in the same breath, a bit of the tension drained out of his shoulders.

_Yeah, sure, 'f you say so... The answer, it was seventy-six?_

_Heh. Yep!_

Most reluctantly, Eddie carefully penned the numbers down.

_...Thanks. But don't get so giddy. I still don't like the idea of you being stuck in here._

Feeling the human's dislike the same as his once-own, It's brief sense of satisfaction deflated accordingly. _I knoW. And_ you _know I dIdn't want things to haPpen- as they... did, but... well! Here we are._

_Tell me it's temporary. Like your episode as Rob was._

_It... mighT be, it might not be, Eds. I'd- I'd tell you if I kNew, as of now. ...Please. You know I wou- wait. ...Richie's calling._

Predictably, Eddie didn't buy the coincidental interruption as true. He frowned, squinting.

_What? No, he's-_

A scant second later, a braying _brrrring_ sounded off from the hallway. Eddie blinked, sitting up in his chair. As though he were suddenly wholly new as to the entity's scope of powers, all over again, he seemed genuinely confused. "How'd you know...?"

It scoffed at the teen's first assumption. He would have shrugged to match, but declined the urge to impose - again. _I don't predict, Eds. I heard him, thinking just noW: "Haven't talked to Doc K lately. Wonder if he checked himself into Juniper yet. ...Let's find out."_

_...You did not._

_DId, too._

_Did... whatever._

_Give me some tiMe, I'lL show you how to listen. Fair's fair?_

_. . ._

_...Go on, answer him. You won't be able to duck hiS questions forever._

"Huh... you... you mean, we won't?" Nervously as he sounded, Eddie glanced one last time at the mostly-unfinished algebra assignment before standing up. With an over-exaggerated carefulness It's sometimes-clownish persona could appreciate, he left the room.

A fleeting glance at the paper was all It needed to deduce the next equation.

And figure out a pact to offer.

_TalK to him, and I'll heLp you with the rest of the quEssstions._

_Fine. ...Come tomorrow, God help you if your answers aren't right._

_They wilL be._

With a tolerant eyeroll that was the definition of _we'll-see_ , Eddie picked up the receiver midway through its third ring. "Hey, Richie."

_"Yeah, I- Wait. ...How'd you know it was me, Eds?"_

Kaspbrak paused, frowning. His physical eyes stared straight ahead, but an inward glance at the smugly-grinning ghost haunting him proved to be his undoing. He scoffed again, but smiled despite their ever-pervasive misgivings. On this subject, they could agree on feeling amused. It was always funny to have momentarily caught Tozier off his guard.

Cheekily, It chanced using one of their shared eyelids in a wink. The fold of skin promptly snapped back up like a stretched windowblind let go. Flinching, Eddie stifled a wry laugh, rather unsuccessfully, as he lifted a hand to rub at the aforementioned eye.

"I ha-had a hunch."

* * *

The genial moment of understanding didn't last long.

Told to his face, Richie Tozier blew any semblence of order and acceptance clean out of the water with his first disbelieving cry of, "You're _shitting_ me!"

It winced at the shrill volume (taking care to muffle the soundwaves, lest the rest of Bassey Park take notice of them), even as Eddie mirrored the action far more obviously. He hesitated only a moment before lunging forward, to grab Tozier by the shoulders. "Richie, _chill_ out. I-it's okay, it's still- "

_No. Words, EdDie. Use other wor-_

"Here? It's still here? In... inside of _you_?" Wide-eyed, Richie slapped the shorter boy's hands away as though they carried a contagious disease. "The _shit_ , Eds, I thought you were _kidding_ before. Please, say you are. ...Please?"

Eddie froze, in thought as much as trying to seem harmless. He stepped back and bit his lip, eyes darting.

_This was a bad idea, wasn't it?_

It wasn't so quick to write the impromptu meeting off as unsuccessful. _...You miNd?_

By the sudden bloom of doubt, Eddie did very much mind the unspoken suggestion. But lacking any better ideas to act on, he gave a very proverbial shrug and, with a most peculiar naturalness, surrendered the stage.

Outwardly, the change of control manifested in a quite exasperated-looking glare crossing his face.

And a very distinct change in tone.

"I'd liKe nothing more than to _be_ kidding, RiChie."

For a split second, Tozier looked absolutely ready to commit murder, then and there. His eyes narrowed, cooled, and darkened. Overall, his visage donned the same grimly-determined frown it had been that day in the cistern. His hands drew into fists at his sides.

In a heartbeat, he was decided. Not all was what it appeared to be. Something in Eddie's eyes, Richie very obviously didn't like the look of. Even worse, the angry recognition set in, but the juxtaposition of a once-friend's unexpected reappearance, wearing a beloved friend's face, kept any punches from flying.

Yet.

Goodness knew Richie and Eddie had spent just as much time, if not more, fighting as they had remaining friends. Usually their quarrels were purely verbal. But occasionally the disagreements escalated into physical conflict.

Right now, Richie didn't seem inclined to go for either possibility. He sighed very audibly, half in a growl, and scissored his arms across his chest. He waited, expectantly, for some kind of follow-up, all without breaking eye contact.

As though hearing Pennywise's voice coming out of Eddie's mouth wasn't convincing enough.

Typical Richie.

_Huh. I don't thiNk he's buying my act, either, Eds._

Somewhere on the entity's peripheral, his host threw up his temporarily-nonexistent hands. _So? Make him. You've done it before._

_What? AlreAdy? ...You see whaT I haVe in mind._

_I do. You also know how stubborn he can be, once he's made up his mind. Do it. Yank the rug out from under him. If that's what it takes to wake Rich up to reality. You're not the only one who needs an idea beaten over your head from time to time to make you a believer._

_Wow. AdaMant._

_Like I would be to jump out of a plane. Get it over with._

_It might huRt- burn, to be specific._

_What do you mean, "might"? Of course it will._

_If you're suRe..._

_I'm anything_ except _sure right now, Dingbat. Just like you. But we don't have to stay that way._

_Hold on, tHen._

Fair warning given, It went for plan B.

* * *

"No, I'm telling you, he _is_. He's back."

Nothing escaped It's ear for long. Listening in from afar, he could read the choked-up underpinning of Richie's words. The Trashmouth cupped the phone against his mouth as though he were a spy, afraid of being found out, when all he was doing was phoning a friend. He sounded equally anxious to match. Where once it would have prompted a proud grin to stretch across It's face, to know he had provoked such anxiety in his once-rival, now the subtext only evoked a whimsical sense of rumination, as the entity paused to dwell yet again on days come and gone.

Had they really been not all that long ago?

_Four weeks, to be exact._

"You kept track?" Robert Gray asked out loud, surprisingly smooth considering the lingering soreness - something donning a glamour shouldn't have normally evoked. He stood some twenty feet from the public phone booth, half hidden in the shade of an oak tree, beside the sidewalk. On a whim, he removed the black sunglasses from his eyes. Turning them about between his fingers, he rotated the opaque lenses toward his face.

As the lookalike watched, his irises shifted from blue-green to a never-seen rich brown.

_Can't help thinking it. Stan marked the date - the 14th. ...Ask him if you don't believe me._

* * *

"Now _why_ would you do such a thing for silly ol' me?"

Asked point blank, Stanley Uris declined to comment. He had hesitated only briefly before wordlessly diving in for a hug. Despite whatever doubts they harbored, Mike Hanlon and Ben Hanscom followed his lead seconds later.

"Guys, ple- don't, it's not- it's not what you think," Richie spluttered, almost helpless in his need to both somehow explain and discredit this small 'miracle' before their eyes. "You know. That's _not_ Stripes. That's... that's Eds, in- in disguise."

_Hmm. I guess "bluntly" would be best way to tell them this._

Released from the hug, all three boys spared It an assortment of confused looks. Collectively, the trio were the quietest, unassuming members of the club. So at their wordless glances, It stepped back from speaking.

The borrowed human disguise blinked, expression growing sheepish. "He... hey, guys." Awkwardly, unused as he was to operating a body not his own, Eddie dared only a meek wave. He looked equally startled to hear his own voice, projected through another larynx as it was.

Just as quickly as he assumed control, he fumbled, taking a step back.

Ben's eyes blinked and went round, mouth falling open in mute astonishment.

Twitching, effectively startled, Mike's hand went to rest on his sweating brow. The other perched itself on his hip. "Ohhh, ca-riminy."

Shoulders bucking, Stan mirrored the flinch far more visibly, jigging backwards as though he intended to run, before remembering there was no imminent danger to run from. " _Oy gevalt_."

"Christ on a _bike_." Already sitting on a nearby bench (as his legs promptly went weak, seeing what Tozier had: a show to rival any transformation-effects sequence of any movie he had seen until that day), Richie facepalmed. "I hoped one of you would have _something_ more useful to say than that."

At that moment, It might have thought it prudent to pay attention to what their assembled company was saying. But the headrush of sensations Eddie experienced momentarily overflowed every other available synapse. Together, they barely stifled a groan, for their own respective reasons.

They weren't quite on the same wavelength yet.

_Eds, you... this one ougHt to be you, now, talking to them._

_Me? ...Shit. Okay. Oh... okay. But is it- Christ, is it gonna hurt_ that _much every time?_

_...I doN't know._

_...God, I can tell. You really don't. ...Do you have any idea? Any advice at all?_

_We best get used to iT._

_...We're gonna be telling ourselves that a lot in the near future, aren't we?_

* * *

"You need to get to a doctor, Eddie."

On this, It's frown matched Kaspbrak's to a tee. Leaning back against a tree as the teen was, Eddie gave a dismissive puff of a sigh and glanced away.

Most redundant suggestion ever, Stanley.

While Eddie looked elsewhere, and the rest of their company talked as though he were no longer all there (which was, in a way, the truth), It took the time to survey those other teens attending the meeting. They were just the same as he remembered. From Richie, to the first three, word soon spread to Bill and Georgie Denbrough. The youngest of their club sat on the grass beside his brother, near silent while word were traded back and forth over his head. He looked the most plainly, painfully confused.

It couldn't help feeling trapped in the same suffocating fog of despair. To be so close and yet so far away from his friend was a downright miserable experience. In the end, Georgie was the only one for whom It could never seem to do any wrong, no matter what. It had latched onto Eddie in the hopes of alleviating the anguish, for all of them, and for Georgie most of all.

Now, like so many impulsive choices the beast had made before, making this one only managed to mix more mud into the water.

Clouding it up to the point no one could see through it.

When? _When_ would it settle enough that they might?

Rubbing the back of his neck, Eddie cottoned onto the muffled pulses of discomfort in short order. His physical headache lessened, for a welcome few moments, as they regarded one another in muted thought.

_Hey. ...Hey. Don't... don't keep beating yourself up._

_But I- I maDe things worse. All oVer again. For you. For him. For them. You... yoU're right, I should've just-_

_Faded out? Completely?_

_. . ._

_...What if we hadn't forgotten you? ...What if Georgie hadn't?_

Interrupting their musings, Bill Denbrough stepped up. He didn't hesitate as Stan had, regarding Eddie as though he were some wild, unreadable animal. Nor did he frown to the great degree Ben had, thinking in short order of all the problems bound to arise from this development. He was as steadfast and supportive as ever, setting a hand on his shorter friend's shoulder.

Without gleaning anything from his forbodingly-pensive expression, It waited while Eddie did the talking.

"What, Bill?"

"Have you... have you told your Mom?"

" _Huh_. Sure. As _if_!" Eddie jumped like a rabbit struck by a bolt of lightning, nerves and voice pitching percariously high. Balking, It reeled at the dizzying speed to which their heart sped up to. The not-nausea swelled to match, a new sour taste running down the back of their throat. "Bill, ar-are you crazy? She's the _last_ person on the planet who needs to- to know about this right now."

"No, but- "

"And you think I should go out of my way _to_ tell her?"

"You live uh-under her roof, Eddie. She's gonna find something, sooner or later," Bill intoned, seriously yet not sounding all that discouraging in the same breath. Of them all, he seemed to be keeping his feelings most reserved, as ever. Undoubtedly, being the nearest available shoulder to cry on for Georgie had sapped him of much time and energy.

Was he feeling resentful all of a sudden, to know that tormentful period had been for naught?

It shuddered to think. Besides ruing the fact his grip on Derry was not at all what it used to be, he dreaded how affected his standing in the Losers' minds was. That was more troubling to think of than potentially losing control of his once-exclusive prey preserve.

_He's- he's not wRong, Eds. I can't keep this... You know, she'll notiCe._

Eddie's skin went cool and goosefleshed. The headache returned, winding itself back around his brain like a freshly-buckled straightjacket. He breathed in and swallowed, chest tight, but stopped short of reaching for his fannypack.

Asthma wasn't the culprit here.

"You think... think I should, Bill?"

"Look where you are. Wh-what else've you got to lose?"

* * *

"Oh, nothing much. Just the last of my _mind_ for starters."

Restlessly, like a caged animal, Eddie paced the breadth of his room. The meeting had wrapped up on as open an end it had been started on, no closer to a real _answer_ than when it began. His algebra homework was faring better in comparison.

With all of one equation solved.

It kept quiet, emotionless and thoughtless as long as possible. He focused on the throb of pain signals, bouncing back and forth along muscles and nerves. They sang a kind of tinny, electric rhythm. If the entity had something to dwell on, hurts included, Eddie seemed to appreciate the time to himself.

For there was precious little either of them could have now.

Eventually, Kaspbrak's out-loud ranting slowed, and he looked inward again.

_What do you think?_

Ultimately, the reformatted entity could only fathom one thing to respond with:

_I think we should listEn to Billy... much as wE may not want to._

_...Damn right we don't. But- but if there's any way_ to _avoid having to flatout tell..._

There was a mirror sitting atop Eddie's dresser, and his tirade trailed off as it caught his eye. On an impulsive whim, the teen took it down, and sat on the edge of his bed. Fretfully almost, he examined his face - at arm's length at first, then he brought the mirror within inches of his eyes.

He started sweating again. His budding nervousness, in turn, made It nervous.

_...WhaT? What is it, Eds?_

_The morph to Gray was a bad call, dude. Look._

Despite the very tempting urge not to, It did.

There, at the very edges of Eddie's rich, dark irises, were noticable flecks of yellow. They stood out like bits of confetti, sprinkled there after the last change had completed itself.

Physical evidence of something which had happened two hours ago, and now showed no signs of going away.

Both of them knew, in their own respective ways, what it indicated. Besides the aches and the sweats, the conflicting emotions they experienced could no more allay the inevitable than the Earth could reverse its rotation. As such, they could only bring themselves to utter one strangled word, together:

"Shit." / _ShiT._


	37. Inversion AU: Intro

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Give and take. Push and pull.
> 
> Break down, build up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EdITs.
> 
> ...Not the pairing you're thinking of.

Despite what other people may say, Eddie Kaspbrak liked to think he was usually a fairly decisive person. Sure, he was the excitable sort. Maybe he occasionally tended to veer toward the obsessive, almost the manic, when it came to getting hung up on details. He tended to spend a lot of time on weighing risks versus rewards.

Too much time, some might have said.

What of it? He was simply one of those guys who liked to know what they were in for. Some people were just like that, and he counted himself among them.

All of this was true, while omitting the fact his frenetic, need-know behavior was often on par with that of a caffeinated jackrabbit's. But he could no more help that conditioning than he could change the person who had bore him into this world.

 _Pfsh. Honestly? Your Mom's long beyond helping. Meanwhile, there's plenty_ about _this mindfuck you call life you_ can _help, Eds. Remember, don't gotta play the hand you're dealt. Sneak a card from the deck, here and there, and you might be surprised at the outcome._

So Richie Tozier would always claim.

Or Stanley Uris, in less vulgar terms.

Make that... a very peculiar mix of the two.

Because, unnaturally-naturally, his current circumstances had Eddie paying far more mind to the peculiarities of mixing, and remixing, the ingredients which comprised his life as he now knew it.

Again, who could blame him for feeling a little rightfully daunted?

To his knowledge, he was the first of a 'kind'. His feet were treading unfamiliar territory, the likes of which no man on the planet had ever seen. There were no established standards to hold himself to, no studies taken, no warnings to heed, no pills to take, no nutritional-

* * *

"'- requirements are met in order to facilitate healthy- growth.'"

Reading the usage directions off the bottle, aloud, Eddie halted, then felt a shivering tremor race up his spine. Scowling, his shoulders gave an involuntary hunch, seemingly of their own accord, but he refrained from commenting long enough to give It a chance to explain the tic.

And the accompanying gut churn of disgust.

_Ugh. Why does that word mAke me shiver, the way you're saying it?_

"What? Growth?" Innocent as he tried to make it sound, the effort was for naught. Eddie flinched again, shoulders arcing high enough to press against his ears, as though he were fending off someone trying to tickle him from behind.

Scowling, he froze. He breathed in, held it, gritting his teeth, and reminded himself (what was left) to stay calm, to try and relax. Losing his cool here only made their emotions churn all the more.

With a decided wrench, he forced his arms back down. "For fuck's _sake_ , sorry. If you think I meant anything, _by_ the way it sounded, I didn't."

_You paused beFore you saId it._

So?

_...You pAuSed._

Tapping the bottle idly against the sink's edge, Kaspbrak frowned. Fixation on the inane, inconsequential details. Check. Dryly delivered sarcasm following a thoughtful hesitation. Check. Forget hypothetical comparisons. He had the proverbial Richie/Stan mix right on hand, in his head, in every last fiber of his being.

It was it.

Lovely.

"Yeah, I paused. So _what_ if I did? I- " Sighing through his nose, Eddie cut the tirade short. Arguing further was totally moot. He tossed the bottle back into the cabinet, taking care to not slam the mirrored door shut. It still clanked a bit too loudly for his liking.

There, he stopped, listening for any changes from down the hallway.

Gradually, as though someone were raising the volume, his ear caught the white noise of the television, playing in the curtained living room. Some daytime soap opera was running full tilt, complete with overly-melodramatic pining by one of the female leads.

What she was bemoaning, Eddie stopped paying full attention to as soon as he sensed a new prickle of agitation, mantling at the back of his skull. Once, twice, a third time after an irregular pause.

Someone else's idle hands were drumming on the proverbial table again.

It was bored.

As seemingly-bored as his host.

Slumping forward, Eddie rested his crossed arms on the sink's edge, perching his chin atop his wrists. Tilting his face down, he stared up, into the mirror, from under his dark eyebrows. It was a vaguely intimidating cant to glare from, or so he hoped.

It had to see so.

_I don't have to sAy it._

"Yeah, you don't. I wasn't kidding. Things have been pretty dull, besides... you, turning up again. _This_ is what comes with me trying to use everything within arm's reach to keep my mind off of... of things. Like the week after Bowers tried running me down."

 _Which incLudes reading-_ medication _labels?_

"Gotta work with what you have." The teen shrugged, rubbing a hand against the back of his neck, a halfhearted massage job. He was going for blasé. Troubling as these talks were, they were preferable to the tense, headache-filled silences in between. "It makes me feel better to look at something familiar, y'know, normal and ordinary? ...Sue me if you don't like it."

_You're duCking the inevitable._

Studies have shown this is highly unadvisable.

Eddie scoffed, tilting his head. His reflection did the same, nothing off-puttingly peculiar about its appearance - thin as ever, but his color was back. He ran a palm across his cheek, appreciating the clear, dry skin. With no anxious sweats or profuse shakes, this was undoubtedly the best he had looked, and felt, in a month.

Amazing. All it had taken was a decent night's sleep. Being lost in the dark, deep abyss had never felt so blissful. It seemed to clear up the yellow blemish of his irises, and every other ill feeling at the time, vanishing as though they were never even present.

Besides the very-definite voice, still chattering away in his head, he felt completely back to his usual self.

_No, no. Ignoring the probleM doesn't make it go away, Eds. Not for you._

( _Besides_ the voice, we said.)

"Oh, how would you know? You've been on this ride before? ...Nah, didn't think so. _We_ ignore it long enough, it might _just_."

_It never went away - befoRe._

"The hunger? Pft. Well, before, it was you... and you alone, right?" Eddie pointed out, trying for the neutral-yet-optimistic angle. Quashing the offense he felt, morally, at even taking up the topic as one worth discussing, he hashed out another likely possibility: "Right? ...Who knows, then? Maybe a- a mixup was what you needed, like a- a new mold to be recast in. The pangs we're feeling might be- vestigial, at best. Like, you don't need the same food you once did."

_A change in appetite? ...No. It's not the sAme for me as it is you._

"So you keep saying. Close enough, so we might- we _could_ try and change that. I mean, you could be a real candidate for... domestication, more than ever before, now."

_Doh... doh-messs-tick-a-_

The word cut itself off in a low, roiling moan. Eddie was still puzzling over the cause when he felt the reason why a millisecond later.

As though someone took the very ground beneath his feet and heaved upward, his once-quiet stomach rolled mid-pronunciation. A sickly-sweet taste washed through his mouth. He choked mid-inhale, midriff giving a foreboding clench before a fierce burning surged forth.

Holding off the need to curse, Eddie whimpered, choked, and clapped a hand across his lips.

His eyes screwed shut, willing himself to stay quiet, to not pitch forward and spew in the sink, whatever the discomfort, whatever its cause. Common sense said it was only stomach acid, acid and nothing more, nothing to be concerned about. He remembered the bout of vomiting he had suffered a few years hence, when public speaking became a very mandatory point of delivering book reports before his fifth-grade English class.

Robbed of the ability to yell aloud, he did so internally.

 _The- t-the_ fuck _is this about, now, dude? I use one big word, among the m-many you already know, and it's too much for you to ha- han-_

An invisible hand, utterly unsympathetic, reached in for another heartless squeeze and twist of their innards.

Coiling against it, resisting the urge to bend double at the waist, Eddie gagged and couldn't stave off the next retch. His shoulders bucked. Something like bile, slimy and thicker than the wash of acid dousing his teeth, welled up, pooling in the back of his throat. Worse, it flooded his sinuses in kind, forcing him to cough and clear his airway.

Like the snap of a slingshot let loose, he spat the oily-tasting mixture into the sink, frantically blinking his suddenly-teary eyes. Shuddering, hacking as softly as he could, he gasped and drew another tortured breath, wiping at his mouth and nose, trying to get ahold of his violently-quivering self. A new feverish chill overtook him. Cold sweat broke out across his brow and temples.

 _Fuck. ..._ Fuck, _that hurt._

The next he looked, what Eddie had thought would be a bloody splatter in the basin turned out to be a viscous black mess. Staring in disbelief, eyes pinched and starting to dry, he saw the outermost drops of brackish ooze begin to separate and flow.

They defied gravity to follow the curve of the sink, _upward_ , instead of down, into the drain.

Watching them squiggle about, Eddie shivered again. He wiped at his fouled mouth, looking at the smear left on his hand, as the ache in his middle vanished. He felt both violated and somehow relieved in the same instant.

Alien symptoms.

To match a very alien ailment.

Gradually, he became aware of the slight spinning, the residual vertigo making his knees weak. Elbows locked, he braced his palms on the sink to keep safe from a total collapse.

After some delay, he noticed the telltale pressure in his head, squeezing his eyes shut to stave off the residual dizziness.

 _He_ wasn't dizzy. It was still reeling.

Distantly, he thought heard the volume of the TV, dialing down.

Any second now, he'd hear the call: _"Eddie, are you all right?"_

He felt his skin pale. _Shit. Shit, no! Don't let Mom hear me. Don't let Mom hear me. Calm- calm down, c'mon, calm. Relax. Hey, settle down. She hears, sees us- m-me puking like that, this kind of stuff, and I- we're as good as sunk._

After what seemed like forever, the volume went back up.

_"...will return after this commercial break..."_

Eddie exhaled, wiping his brow with the back of one hand. Gradually, the spinning leveled off. Woozily, It finally answered in a dazed, breathy whisper.

_Sh... she won'T. Soh-sorry, Eds._

Very belatedly, the nausea gone as quickly as it had set in, Eddie thought to turn on the tap. Grabbing the soap from the dish, he started scrubbing. The soapy water washed the gunk away in one splash. Fervent in his need to clean up, he overlooked the fuzziness lingering at the corners of his eyes. He grimaced at the thick, wrong aftertaste coating his gums.

Tooth brushing. That would come next.

_Cripes. Get- get a grip, Pen. ...Christ. You're not... not that hungry, are you?_

To this It made a fluttery, lightheaded sigh, reorienting his attention as best he could. He sounded like a car running on empty, its tank depleted and engine rapidly petering out. The evidence in the sink certainly matched the look of a ruptured oil line.

 _I always- was, Eddie. And in fuLl_ control _of myself. Those were my... senses to fight, not your's. The signaLs now are- they're all... crossed, muddled. Colors. Noises. Hues. Pitches._

_What are you saying? You're... like, peaky? Sick?_

_Heh... you might sAy so._

_How? From being hungry? You get the dry heaves from that?_

_Sometimes. From being tired. You've seen as much, before, at the park, before... Fatigue- is eaSy to set aside when it's only your- own to cope with._

_I thought... last night, we got some sleep, though?_

You _got some sleep. You needed it, Eds, more badly tHan_ you _even knew. ...I'm not- tired of being aWake. I'm..._

"Tired... sick and tired, of being hungry?" Eddie finished, soft and lamely. The only good the realization did was bring back the nervous, hot flush to his skin, dispelling the cold. "Shit." He looked up from his sudsy, mostly-clean hands to the mirror. There, in the immaculate surface, he saw the tacky smears under his nose, adorning his mouth.

The congealing mess made him look like he had chugged a quart of engine grease. His now-empty guts clenched at the comparison.

And _where_ the substance had manifested from - he didn't want to know.

Morphing had been a cakewalk by comparison. Skin fracturing and flaking away in disintegrating particles. The wet crunches of bones twisting and stretching, made pliable by the act of his very molecules imploding. Suffocating as if a high wind were keeping him from breathing. All while feeling as though he had been sealed in a man-sized oven for a whole ten seconds.

Looking out from behind his friend's wide brown eyes, It apparently arrived at the same conclusion.

They didn't have to look sick to feel their ills in full.

_I'm tired of hurting, Eds, and I'm even more tiRed of you hurting becauSe of me._

_Well. That's one of the side effects of being friends with anyone, dude. You bear each other's hurts._

_Heh... But if there's any way to make it hurt lesS, without- Maybe... we ought to arRange a doctor's visit now?_

"Why? Because Stan is never guilty about dishing out _bad_ advice?" With renewed vigor, Eddie scrubbed the remnants from his hands, procuring a washcloth to wet and wipe at his face. He let the taps keep running, using the noise of the faucet to mask his words. "Bill got it wrong. I say _anything_ to Mom about this, that's it - she'll have doctors from all over the northeast wanting to haul me- us away for- for testing, scans, X-rays, sample taking. And they would only be the first, whether they see you as- you are, or another new disease without a name. Who knows what else, orwhoelse- "

_I can't keep us hiDden from her forever, Eds. Not without-_

"Quit, I get it," Eddie snipped, hackles rising and falling with unease, running his tongue across sullied teeth. He looked at the stained cloth in his hands, listening to the hissing spray of the running water. As he stared, the spots in the saturated fabric faded away, leaving it as pristine as before. Nothing amiss about it.

If only satisfying the demands of this new, unavoidable dietary plan were as simple.

He reached for his toothbrush.

* * *

Acing his algebra assignment was small recompense for what followed. He went truant the day afterward. Thursdays were good for that. Without involving the greater ranks of the club, he could explain his solo absence from school far easier than four or five of them might.

Understanding though he was trying to be, Eddie couldn't completely thwart the urge to fret.

Old habits died hard.

_So messed up. Somessedup. Soveryveryverymessedup._

" _Quiet_ , Eds, pleAse," It growled, as aloud and still under-his-breath as the entity could manage in such an unfitting body. "It doesn't woRk if you're not."

_Can't believe we're doing this. I can't-_

" _You're_ not doiNg anything. This one's aLl me, remember?"

_Oh, trust me. I won't be forgetting anytime soon. If this weren't you, there's no way I'd be caught dead on this side of town._

"No?"

_No way whatsoever._

"...You'd be dead in fiVe minutes."

 _Heyyy._ It's flat, ribbing rebuke did the trick, evoking just enough indignant offense to bring Eddie back from the oh-so-scary edge of hysteria. And for a second, he was happy to indulge. _Come on, I'd... I'd last a little longer than that... Maybe?_

"With Richie and the others to back you up, sure." One of It's borrowed arms shrugged. He kept their eyes averted from those of passersby on the sidewalk, pressing onward with riveted determination. A few odd looks from blue-collared adults were easy enough to rebuff when one didn't meet their eyes, it seemed. "By yourself - noPe. You'd be easy pickIngs for most."

Breath stilling, Eddie felt his chest tighten at the notion.

 _Well... okay, invisibility_ does _have its advantages, then, I guess. Out of sight, outta mind. ...Slowly going_ out _of my mind. With every passing minute-_

"Relax, Eds. You're as safe as cAn be, under the... circumstances."

They reached a corner, a crosswalk in the warehouse-overrun industrial 'district' on the southeastern fringe of Derry. Rust-spotted pickup trucks spewing diesel smoke rumbled by. Eddie felt the thrum of their engines - the same close-yet-faraway vibe - but tried not to let trivial, singing nerves stand in his way.

Their way.

Odd as it may have looked to see any kid his age prowling about in the early evening, he took solace in knowing he wasn't the one actually doing said hunting. He was just along for the ride.

Ever-sensitive to his friend's doubts, and when they were running high, It tried for reassurance: "I know my limiTs, Eds. Been doing this a lonnng time."

 _Hah._ Eddie wished he had control of his eyes to roll. _If that was supposed to comfort me, it didn't. This is still... as wrong as it gets._

"To a human, of course," It sneered. He sounded almost dismissive now. Something had caught his eye, tickled his nose, and Eddie could only tell because the surfacing gruffness in It's voice heralded another recognizable-yet-not tic. He couldn't tell what it was piquing It's interest, a bare whiff of scent was all it took to get the drool flowing.

Much more drool than any boy like him should have been capable of.

Gross, but no more than he seen It do in the past.

Eddie was more frightened of the gravelly, heedy rumble It's tone took on. He had heard it once before, upon confronting It in the cistern, and once was the only time he thought he would ever have to hear it. At the time, he shared none of the feelings of voracious hunger or molten anger or a near-compulsive urge to tear apart _everything_ before his very eyes.

Now that he did, in a very not-human capacity, It was all the more unnerving.

As It himself was quick to point out.

"But tHEn- you anD I, we dOn't reaLly _count_ as _that_ , do wE?"

* * *

What happened next, while secretly spectacular, Eddie would write off as a textbook case of getting cold feet.

With one Sonia Kaspbrak in attendance, he counted it lucky no one else of their neighborhood were out in their yards to witness his impossible feat.

Barricaded by who knew what force, It seethed via a series of grumbles and incomprehensible stammers before going quiet. The befuddled entity hadn't counted on having control abruptly yanked out of his hands. But like so many other two-way streets they had found themselves following as of late, it seemed as though Eddie could spring the unpredictability trick when necessary.

Tonight he did so by teleporting - without any warning whatsoever - back to where he had started.

Because, like the puking episode, he had wished so badly to be anywhere _except_ where they were headed. Just as It's greatest fear was, seemingly, being completely tamed, Kaspbrak's was just the opposite - losing himself to the wild, savage senselessness masquerading as benevolence during daylight hours.

Polar opposites converged.

One moment It was ducking through the rotted-out doorway of a warehouse, intent on rooting out where a peculiar _thud-thump_ sound was emitting from.

The next Eddie was standing - nearly swaying from side to side, more like - trying to keep his feet as if he had spontaneously parachuted back into this own front yard. He lurched forward upon trying to take a single uncoordinated step, catching himself on the short staircase's railing.

Whoa.

That was pretty unexpected.

The second after he did, he got his bearings and footing back. The front door swung open, he looked up, and there was his mother's round, bespectacled visage. The rest of her expansive, bathrobed self soon joined it.

"Eddie bear, where wer- oh, your _face_ ," Sonia gasped. She leaned down and virtually pulled him over the steps, a bear whisking her cub to safety, back into the house. From there, she steered him down the hall, into the waiting bathroom. "Where on Earth _were_ you?"

He almost staggered his way into a fall under her brutish touch, thinking of the best, most mundane lie he could, on the fly. "Just- just o-out for a walk, Mom. Like- I said." Ever-annoying as her fawning once was, Eddie tolerated this time, as it was yet another increasingly-rare moment of normalcy. He clung to that comparison like a floundering swimmer would a life preserver.

"Did you fall? Where did all this- dirt come from?"

Eddie wanted to believe it was dirt, whatever it was caked all over his face. Directed to sit on the edge of the tub, he clenched his hands against the ceramic sides as Sonia took a wet washcloth to his brow, cheeks, ears. The tan, slightly-pilly fabric soon came away smeared with black stains.

It's impotent growl rasped and raked against his eardrums, unseen clawtips squealing on invisible glass. The pressure behind his eyes doubled, spreading through his temples and down into his cheekbones. Eddie swallowed another urge to retch, closing his eyelids tight as a ever-more-bewildered Sonia continued to clean the hellish flakes of dead skin away.

He thought he had been ready.

Ready to get it over with.

Clearly, they weren't.

* * *

Right back where they started, come Friday, neither of them thought to cut class. There was nothing to gain from doing so. Eddie suffered the latter half of the morning with only a mild case of the spins, but as lunch hour rolled around, taking his place at the table also proved welcomingly uneventful.

Or it was proving uneventful until Richie - sitting across from him - felt a need to bring up the shorter boy's now-ever-present conundrum. Neither of their attending friends had yet dared, only sparing Eddie a concerned look here and there. Ben sat to his right, Stan to his left. Up until that point, they had dwelled on lunch and discussing homework.

Uncalled for as the topic was, at least Tozier tried to be nice about it.

"Hey, Doc?"

"What?"

"Feeling a bit better?"

"Sure, sorta. Thanks."

"Yeah? You look it. ...So. You tell Stripes to take a hike yet?"

"No," Eddie retorted, with a decided flatness. His eyes remained fixed on his lunchtray. The carrots and mashed potatoes were already gone. He stared at his untouched portion of meatloaf as if it were laced with arsenic. "Tell him yourself, douche."

Elbows on the table, Richie twirled a plastic fork between his fingertips and shrugged. The edginess was of no offense to him. "I just did, then - if he's still rooming with you, as we speak."

"He's... napping," Eddie said, crisply, mostly to satisfy the curious looks Stan and Ben paid him. As much as he rather wouldn't have answered, refusing to comment would only mean enduring more questions hurled his way. "Or doing a really good job of- pretending to. Hasn't said a word to me since last night."

True to form, Ben only raised an eyebrow by way of reaction.

"Why's that?" Stan dared to ask. To his credit, he was trying to make it sound nonchalant. Coincidentally, he resembled a fidgety avian, perched on a fence, unsure of which side to jump down on. "You two... you're getting along okay?"

"Okay as can be, con-considering." Almost writing the answer off as casual, Eddie dared to take a closer look at his gravy-laden meatloaf. Nothing _looked_ outwardly wrong about it. The thing was served practically cold, but this dish was, most days. Warmed up, it may have had a detectable aroma.

Experimentally, he sniffed.

Somewhere over his shoulder, he heard Ben try to speak up: "Eddie, what's wro- "

Then, face screwing up in sheer disgust, Kaspbrak abruptly pushed the tray away, almost to the center of the table. The far edge bumped against Richie's with a _clack_. Gravy sloshed about, bleeding over into the emptied spaces.

Almost as an afterthought, Stan reached over to stop him. "Eddie- "

Richie sat up straighter, bracing a hand on his tray, lest his meal end up in his lap.

He stilled, eyes never leaving Eddie's face. He noted the transition before the other three boys realized what had occurred.

"Yeesh. Not quite your... _taste_ , is it, Twitchy?"

Glaring him down, Eddie heard a noncommittal, pouty-sounding grumble before the sudden swell of pressure in his head eased. He blinked the feeling away, features relaxing, sheepishly reaching forward to pull his tray back.

"S-sorry, Rich."

Tozier's expression softened. He shook his head, combing fingers through his shaggy hair. "'T's okay, dude. I didn't think you were behind that."

His innocence still intact, Eddie managed a small smile, but it felt brittle at best. While glad It only risked a minor tantrum, the act still planted a seed-sized bit of concern. A worrying portion of misbehavior that would soon grow into a sizable issue.

Mild.

That was a very mild reaction compared to the events of the last few days.

Eddie swallowed, trying to loosen his tightening throat. While the others reluctantly turned back to finishing their meals, he glanced around at the cafeteria. Packed to the brim with students, the full high school spectrum of ninth graders to seniors.

...Targets.

No.

Students. Classmates. _Peers_.

No.

Prey. Bodies. _Food_.

Wrenching his drifting focus back, Eddie tried to busy himself with finally slicing up the meatloaf. Wolfing it down in four decisive bites, he paid scant attention to actually chewing it properly, or the way his insides coiled at the taste.

(Stan, looking on in incredulity, pointed out how he did so later the same afternoon. _"I thought for sure you'd choke on one of those pieces."_ )

Eddie didn't marvel. He had bigger troubles to dwell on, even if It wasn't.

 _Especially_ if It wasn't.

If there wasn't an alternative way to excise the problem, what would be the consequences of neglecting It?

By latching on, the entity had inadvertently proved there was such a thing as 'death' for someone like himself. He was no longer capable of sustaining his own life force, seemingly. Eddie had deduced this much as true, or else It would have ceased to be entirely.

But if he perished now, had he rooted in too deep? Would It take his host with him?

* * *

Even if there was only so much his puny mortal mind could know, Eddie thought to press It for more information. Yes, the incorporeal beast knew his limits. But did he know the parameters of _this_ one in particular? How long before It tired past the point of help? What if something a little more severe than nausea manifested, at exactly the wrong place and time?

Post lunch, but before class, Ben Hanscom found the place Eddie thought to steal away to. He hadn't gone far, as the nearest alcove lay just outside the cafeteria doors. The germaphobe was quietly fretting, eyes down, squashed into the gap between two banks of lockers.

Lika a very improvised set of horse blinders. Or a falconry hood with no eye covers.

A minute must have elapsed before Kaspbrak actually looked up to see the former new kid was standing there, practically waiting to be noticed.

Funny. Everyone else was tending to overlook him these days.

_Oh, that kid? Just a trifle possessed, he is. Nothing to concern yourselves with._

Despite the sardonic thought, Eddie forced a shaky smile, hoping it passed for normal. Or a very good imitation of it. "What's up, Ben?"

"Nothing, besides..." The bookworm trailed off, looking the considerably-thinner teen up and down. Or, more up than down. "You... have you measured yourself lately?"

Eddie blinked.

Tuned out as he temporarily was, the out-of-left-field query even got It to perk up.

_...WhaT?_

* * *

"Guys, seriously - it's not- hey. C'mon, we're all getting to that age growth spurts will be hitting when we least expect. It's not so unusual."

Backed against the trunk of a birch tree in the Barrens, Eddie watched, hands at his sides, as Stan reached over his head to mark the bark with an uncapped Sharpie. He didn't have to stretch far or at much of an angle.

Not like he had for Ben, moments earlier.

Turning around, Eddie squinted at the two ink marks on the tree.

"Not unusual?" Beside him, Richie gaped at the discovery. Their gazes met again, with eyes oddly more level than either of them could immediately ever recall being. "It is when you... suddenly go two inches taller overnight, Eds."

* * *

"Another side effect," Eddie surmised, later, in the privacy of his bedroom. "Has to be. Between the morphing and the- the teleporting, I guess we got lucky this one isn't too far out there in the weirdness theatre."

A sulking It wasn't moved by his argument. While there was no mental shrug or attempt at an eyeroll, the near-dejected hum and undertones to the entity's following words spoke volumes:

_You think it'll stop theRe?_

Frowning, Eddie pushed away from the desk. Homework could wait. "No." He stretched his arms out. They reached the same length, insofar as he remembered them being last night. The same went for his knee-socked legs. "But I don't _feel_ any taller."

_Hmm. Must looK it, then..._

As It failed to continue, Eddie stole a glance at his desktop mirror. Stranger and stranger. If it was possible for one's reflection to metaphorically turn their back on the bearer, that was what he felt like.

This wasn't him being ignored out of mere petulance.

It was flagging. The words were a touch fainter than before.

"Hey. ... _Hey_. Don't zonk out on me again."

_Why not? The quietEr I am, the less you hurT, the happier you are._

"Happy? Don't be stupid. Dude, you know we're well beyond any chance of a- fix, a-a happy ending."

It answered with a perfunctory grunt, like the thud of a dropped book hitting the floor as though its potential reader gave up before even opening it.

But there it sat, off the shelf.

Picturing said book, wondering just what hidden information lay between its covers, Eddie tried for some basic curiosity, without the fretful emotion tied in along with it. He wasn't very studied at the art of compartmentalization, no, but he could try.

Maybe... a little more receptiveness was just what the doctor ordered?

"What happened to- to showing me?"

_ShoW you? Show you, what?_

"What you're about? You said you would."

_I did? ...You still want to know?_

"Heh, I may not want to, but to some degree, I have to."

_You already know, Eds. You'Ve seen enough - about what I am, what I do. And I know you don't liKe what you see. ...You didn't like it before. When I- when PatricK went missing._

"N... no, but- "

 _Why? Why shouLd I humor myself anymore? Humor anyone? You're miserable because of me, at the thought of me, everything. And that's- what I do- did, but- I'm not- I'm not even_ me _anymOre. I can't be. Not like befoRe._

Low as It sounded, verging toward the same scary impartiality that made his core facets so unnerving to see, Eddie still tried for some encouragement. He kept his eyes on the mirror, speaking softly, yet firmly - the same way he had seen Beverly do countless times. "Hey, you and me both, right? You're- c'mon, we've barely started piecing this together, and you're already sounding like we can't make it work."

_NeitHer of us knows iF it can._

"Right _now_ , no, we don't. No one does. ...The hell if I'm gonna let that stop you, though."

_If I do, if you did, maybe it'd be for the betTer._

"Pft. The better? Neither of us knows what 'better' would be, either. And after spending a year on befriending me and the others, putting up with all of your- Deadsense, you really think we'll let you off that easy?"

Silence.

Without and within.

Eddie smiled and went for the proverbial kill. "Dude. _You_ won't even let yourself off that easy. We had to beat that lesson into you, too. Among other things, it turns out you're a glutton for self-annihilation, too."

There.

That was more in line with the language It spoke.

_I... am? I... I didn't know there was such a thiNg._

"Trust me, pal, there is. You epitomize it, as much as anything else. Now can we get past the flirtation and come up with a plan, _please_?"

Messed up as the demand sounded, once they got past the initial jitters, the incredibly-awkward tryout, who was to say it would be so bad?

Whatever counted as their sense of humanity didn't need to be abolished.

But it could certainly be put on the backburner.

* * *

Pep talk accomplished, Eddie went into the weekend feeling somewhat encouraged. It wasn't one to plan anything overly elaborate, even when asked. But it was one dial adjustment closer to finding a harmonic frequency for them to operate on.

Tempting as it was to involve the others, the duo could agree on the necessary exclusion factor, too. There needn't be any more hands on this till than absolutely needed. The remainder of the club simply couldn't know what it was to cope with this debacle, one on one. So they were better off kept in the dark.

This didn't stop Richie from trying to interfere, nevertheless, and he promptly managed to around nine o'clock Saturday morning.

Why?

Because there was some unwritten law of the universe drifting about somewhere that _demanded_ he make a thorn out of himself.

Especially when it came to situations involving Eddie Kaspbrak.

Pulling onto the shoulder of the street, Eddie pumped the brakes of his bike, jolting to a stop. He braced a leg in lieu of his kickstand and glanced over his shoulder. "Y'know, Richie, Pen and I may not be getting along on _everything_ , but we can definitely agree you are being as much of a pain in the ass as- posSible about tHis - on - _puRpose_."

Scowling, Richie skidded to a halt beside them. Undissuaded by the merge of voices, midsentence, he reached out to grab the other bike by its nearest handlebar. "Exactly. No one else is gonna take the job, you numbskulls. No one wants it. Tell you that for free. ...What else d'you expect me to do, politely sit on my hands?"

 _It'd be a start._ Exchanging another mutually exasperated glance, Eddie was pleased to see his onboard counterpart execute a well-honed eyeroll. Maybe it was the barely-repressed fearful concern emanating from Richie keeping It from another fadeout.

But at the moment, neither boy or entity were complaining.

"Sit on youR hands. ...Wasn't the firSt thing to cRoss my mind, but if you're _offering_ \- "

"Buzz off, Spooky."

"But _Richarrrd_ \- "

"I didn't miss your whining, wise guy. Put Eds back on the phone. Now."

It gave a wry, twisted smirk Eddie could never remember levelling at anybody throughout the course of his life. Their eyes narrowed. "Oh? What if he doesN't want to talk?"

"I get the feeling he does, and you're not letting him."

" _He_ 's leTting _me_ talk. And I'd do tHe same for him."

"You'll forgive me if I don't completely believe you."

"...You'Re forgiven."

"Tch. Funny, Creepster. Letting this and not wanting that. How do I know you're not bullshitting me, regardless?" Richie fired back, his tone bordering on acidic. His hand lifted to grab the collar of Eddie's pale yellow polo. "For all we know, you're moving in for good and kicking him out."

It's smirk dropped.

"You- don't know _shit_ , man. Like always." Snapping back to the fore, frowning, Eddie wrenched the other boy's hand aside. The transitions were only getting smoother with practice. Prying off his friend's tightly clenched fingers was more of a struggle. "No one's moving - or kicking - anyone - out of _anywhere_ , Richie. Fuckin' A." Stalemate reached, they stared each other down, two to one, a moment longer before Eddie heaved a sigh. The sun was a trifle too hot on his forehead. "Sheesh. At this point, you're starting to worry even more than I am."

"Good." Richie, ever the doubtful holdout, kept fretting. But he looked visibly glad to hear his counterpart's original voice again. "Someone oughta be, Eds, I mean- _especially_ if you're not."

"Worrying isn't getting us anywhere."

Looking somewhere between desperate and furious, Richie wrenched Kaspbrak's handlebar over, so close the front wheels of their bikes touched. "But that's what you _do_ , man. You worry when the rest of us don't. And yeah, most times it's annoying as hell, the pissing in our ears with all the health warnings and the useless statistics, but how you seem to- to be warming up to this- _idea_. It ain't right."

Insert painfully-obvious double-meaning here.

Inured to the inherent levity, Eddie's brow dropped, along with It's phantom imitation. Neither of them opted to do so much as giggle.

It.

Not right.

"...No, it's not."

"So, does that mean you have a fix in mind you're just not telling us?"

"Wait and see."

"...That's all?"

Eddie shrugged. "Until I see a sign telling me different."

Heart, body, and overly-blended soul taxed as they were, his compulsive dwelling on the negatives was only exacerbating the nausea, sweats, and aches.

Something Richie had yet to take under consideration for himself. "Are you listening to yourself anymore? ...You wear out the panic button on your brain's control panel, with too many presses, or did he disconnect it?"

Grateful for whatever balm of calmness It kept drawn over the situation, Eddie pondered this a moment. Then, looking down to see Richie's hand was still on the handle, gripping tight, he pulled back. Hitchingly, the other boy's fingers let go. "It's just another... lesson in sharing, Rich, when you set all the other clutter aside. What's so weird about that?"

"What's so wei... Edward, you stop talking this not-you nonsense, right now, or so help me, I- I'll- "

_Don't let him fiNish that thought. He's thinking-_

_About phoning Mom? I heard that one, loud and clear. Before he goes totally ballistic-_

It quieted, concentrating, while Eddie locked eyes with Richie and voiced the command: "Richie. _Chill_."

Of his own accord, or by the power of subliminal suggestion, Tozier froze. His suspicious squint eased. The tension went out of his shoulders.

Eddie waited a few seconds, waiting for the effect to dispel (as only seemed subconsciously right to do), then tried for a reassuring smile. "Yeah, I'm kinda messed up. But, look, I'm not dead. Pen's not going anywhere... and neither am I. We just... we're kind of a work-in-progress."

"Sure. One with no visible _end_ ," Richie croaked. A hint of dismay crept back across his face. His hands kept on gesturing, futile and as unable of grasping the scope of the apparent-non-problem as much as his mind. "I mean- damn it, Cackles, when it was just you, we at least had a timetable, something to go by, to know how long you'd be around. Now, you've gone and gotten Eds involved in some _Invasion of the Body Snatchers_ fantasy you never told us was even a- a possibility. You can't blame us for being upset, or feeling like you lied."

On this, It kept very deliberately quiet, practically emotionless.

No denials, but no confirmations, either.

"How could he lie if he didn't know it would happen, either? ...The alternative was never seeing him again," Eddie explained, as he had at least five times over the previous Wednesday, as most of the club, sans Beverly, gathered in the park. "We can't know different, and I can tell you by what I've seen in here- " He tapped a finger against his temple. "He would've faced a death sentence, that much was the truth."

Lacking any better a rendition to offer, It went even quieter. But like a tension fissure splitting a glacier, some sensations leeched out. Eddie felt his tear ducts twinge, but the tears didn't flow. The entity's myriad of emotions were too many to name.

"They gave him an option, and he chose what felt right at the time. I can't get mad at him for making a poor choice. We've all made bad calls."

"Yes, but... Stripes, couldn't you have- picked someone else?"

Asked point blank, It blinked with Kaspbrak's eyes, before recoiling completely. The crack narrowed, but was left ajar just wide enough for Eddie to know It wasn't completely closed off, trying to avoid responding entirely. As yet, no one had been brave enough to dare word such a question this way.

Waiting, Eddie wasn't surprised to hear nothing then and there.

It was still tired, easily disoriented, hungry.

Sick.

Why pick the person you did? Why burden them more so than you already have?

Who would want to answer such a loaded question on an empty stomach?

* * *

_What a thing to aSk. ...And he's still comiNg along?_

_He doesn't give up that easily. We both know this._

_It's just a... hoSpital visit._

_Please. You know_ who _we're gonna see there. Don't pretend indifference._

_...You're still okay wiTh it?_

_Not in the least. And she won't be, either, if she knows at all. But this is one loose end I_ know _you want tied up._

_How arE we gonna shake Richie, then?_

_...You heard of bait and switch?_

* * *

"Shit. Eddie...? Eddie, you- where did- where are you? ...Spooky? ...Either of you?"

Minding enough to keep silent, Eddie was surprised at how nonchalantly he stood, smack dab in the center of the hallway, and Richie - barely six inches away - looked right through him.

A moment ago, they had stood side-by-side in the elevator.

The next, as the doors parted, Tozier stepped out first. Eddie followed, taking a lighter step than was probably necessary on a freshly-waxed floor. His cautiousness proved rewarding as he watched Richie's overpronated foot skid against the linoleum.

With a muttered curse, Richie flailed and reached for a nearby gurney, sidled up against the hallway wall, to keep from doing the splits.

The next he looked back, angry look primed and ready to defend his moment of clumsiness, the agitation swept itself off his face. His eyes went wide.

Still standing there, yet somehow _not_ , Eddie blinked, mildly startled, unable to help a head tilt.

_Whoa. Disappeared that fast, did we?_

It's only answer was a brazen chuckle.

Regaining his balance, Richie paced one way, then the other. There were more than a few closed doors along this wing. He chanced opening one or two, tentatively calling after his missing company, even going so far as to recall the elevator for a look inside.

As the metal doors slid apart to reveal an empty car, Richie's shoulders slumped.

"You fuckers, you bailed."

The deadpan finality in his voice got a dry laugh out of Eddie.

_Not the first time Pen's ditched you. Get over it._

Straightening, Richie gave up his search with a resigned huff. He squared his posture, chest puffing out. "Right, _fine_. Leave me to show up without so much as a box of flowers or some gentlemanly shit by way of a _get-well_ gesture. Bev'll love that."

Feeling just as resigned as the Trashmouth sounded, ignoring his pseudo-courageous stance, Eddie made no move to call him back. The mere mention of Beverly saddened him as much as it rekindled It's barely-repressed aggression.

_She'll be happier to see you than she would us, man._

_...For what we haVe in mind, defiNitely._ DeFiniteLy _will be happier to sEe him._

_...You think any more on what you'll want to say to her, afterward?_

Ever on the contrary, It said nothing.

Looking back, Eddie saw a muted, eye-level flash of yellow in his blurred, warped reflection off the elevator.

With a cheerful _ding_ \- without a once-necessary button press - the elevator doors opened a third time.

* * *

_This... pretty sure all this violates a health code of some kind, somehow. And in the hospital, with so many regulations to keep up with, if some inspector was to find their way down here..._

Slinking about the many rooms comprising the basement level of the Derry Home Hospital, It's concerns were nowhere near as municipal. Let off the leash, the creature had already scented who it was they were after. He wasn't sparing any more time for small talk.

And, keeping to his word as they closed in, It spoke less and less.

Somehow, that was more bothersome than the chatter Eddie had once found so latently annoying. All of a sudden, he was wishing they were where they had been a shy twelve hours prior. For him, the preshow jitters were back, with a vengeance.

He wanted to hide and puke again, not be tossed out on the stage.

Alas, it was fast proving too late for second thoughts.

_...A-a- look, there goes a rat. Pretty sure I saw a rat go scuttling under that linen rack just now, Pen._

The cursory diversion did them no good. It's scoff of irritation bled over into a throaty growl. Sweating the same cold sweat he had come to know, dread, and try to bear all in the same week, Eddie felt his chest cavity reverb with the unnaturally-deep force.

Then, drawing to a stop, he spotted what sign the demonic presence had already pegged. His hands balled into fists, fingernails scraping his palms. Brow falling, his lips peeled back in an ugly snarl.

An open door, squirreled away behind the protective screen of two sets of supply shelves, leading to a maintenance closet.

Listening with ears far sharper than what he was accustomed to using, Eddie winced at the high-pitched whine emitting from within. It's hearing spectrum was who-knew-how-many-times greater than his own. And whatever acoustic dampeners the entity once used to block the full scope of soundwaves off from his host's awareness - those had promptly been ripped out and cast aside.

And besides the cool, closed-in smells of mildewy rot of aged dust and rusty, leaking pipes, there was one other prominent scent, all about the basement. The musky aroma of sweat, hormones, and clothes too long lived in. It was strongest here, just outside the near-hidden door, and the din of a small, portable box-sized television broadcasting from inside said _here_ was where their prey would be found.

Wilting at the seams, Eddie felt the furnace within kick on. Gauge needles swung over into the red. The sweat on his skin evaporated. The pressure set in, undeniable and intense, all throughout his form. Once-frail fingers lengthened into smooth, black claws, scissoring in anticipation. Teeth, growing pointed and curved, row upon row of them surfaced, lined themselves in successive bands down the back of his gullet.

Ready as he was never going to be, Eddie Kaspbrak closed his eyes against a blast of light from behind the eyelids.

_Make it quick._

It reopened them in a blaze of amber-gold. The ensuing grin split their face, stretching from ear to ear.

 _C_ _**a** _ _N do, E_ _**d** _ _s._

Sparks caught. Their physical imitation of self burned away, caught up in a primordial fireflash. Eddie - or whatever semblance of him was left, having surrendered to the supernatural tempest - ducked against the levy, feeling the heat tear past, then through him, without scalding his skin. He huddled as one would to avoid the shockblast of a meteor strike.

Duck and cover.

The door banged open, striking the wall with such force its hinges were wrenched from the frame. The TV was knocked off its stand, striking the concrete floor with such force its screen broke out in a shower of sparks. A chair overturned as its former occupant's brown beer bottle shattered. Shards flew.

Alvin Marsh never knew what hit him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To be continued in _First Is Worst_.


End file.
